Shrouded Veil
by pi R round
Summary: They called her the Veiled Sekirei. Unfortunately, she had to die to unlock her true power. Taking on the nature of The Veil, Uzume emerges from the beyond, changing and manipulating the fabric of the world. Now if only she knew how.
1. Death is a Stupid Btch

**A/N: Greetings all and sundry. It has been a long time since I've published anything, though it's not because I haven't been writing. I have a lot of first chapters piled up in my Google Drive, but I was never able to figure out where I wanted to go from there until now. I still only have one chapter for this story, at the moment, but I have quite a few ideas about where I would like this story to go, which a lot better than I've been able to accomplish with my other first chapters. Hence, why I feel comfortable posting this.**

 **Things you should know:**

 **-So this story combines a few things I never thought I would find myself writing. Mainly it's a crossover and a harem...probably. The only pairing I've for sure set in stone is the one made obvious in this first chapter. One thing I do know is that I only plan on there being one person from the Sekirei world in the harem. How will that work, you ask? In the immortal words of Dana Marschz: "I have a device." (and no, it's not a time machine)**

 **-Hogwarts starts at age 13 in this story. Despite that, the HP universe is essentially canon until the end of OOTP. Don't complain. Even though I know it happens in real life, I don't fancy writing about 14-15 year olds gettin' squelchy. Especially with 20-somethings. Which brings me to the next thing you should know.**

 **-This story is rated 'M' for a reason. Starting in this chapter. I will do my best to keep it somewhat tasteful. I don't want to get this story booted after all. But come on, it's Sekirei. I still don't understand how there are K rated Sekirei fics on this site. I mean have these authors read the manga or watched the anime? To that end, with Harry being 17 at the start of this fic, he is reaching his sexual peak and will not be the typical wishy-washy wet noodle that most manga/anime harem protagonists seem to be. He won't be an out and out sex fiend, but he will know what to do with a woman like Uzume, once he gets over some emotional hurdles.**

 **-Timelines: What has two thumbs and doesn't give a crap if the canon timelines in a crossover fanfiction wouldn't normally overlap? This guy. I like the HP timeline, and since this story takes place in the HP world, that's the one we go with. Only change is what was stated before. So instead of his first year at Hogwarts being '91-92, it's '93-'94.**

 **-I welcome all reviews, but please keep the 'that's not how it worked in the books' comments to a minimum. It's fanfiction. If I didn't change a few things, it would just be canon. That being said, please point out inconsistencies within my story, because I have a lot of trouble reading stories that are not self-consistent and I don't want to be that guy. For example, if I said in chapter 2 that elephants have giant blue testicles than can be used to generate continuously renewable biodiesel and then in chapter 4 said they were red ovaries, I have become inconsistent with myself. That is bad. Boo on me.**

 **Ok, I've rambled on too long. Enjoy!**

 **DISCLAIMER: I do not own either the Harry Potter franchise nor the Sekirei conglomerate. I write this story purely for my own jollys, which sadly are not of a monetary or otherwise material nature.**

* * *

 _ **Chapter 1: Death is a Stupid Bitch**_

'Welcome Home:' the last words she had heard before taking the proverbial bullet for Sahashi. The words now filled her with a bitter resentment. Not for the sacrifice she had made, but for the irony of where she had managed to end up. _Home, my ass_. Home is where you are supposed to feel safe, where your loved ones share your life, where your fondest memories are set. Like hell this shitshack was her home.

She just did not understand. Deactivation was supposed to mean the end of her consciousness as she and everyone else knew it. Unless the Jinki were combined, there was no coming back, and even then she would expect to return to a world similar to the one she left or at least reasonably so. It was obvious to Uzume that no such thing had occurred. There was absolutely no way this was a 'real' world.

Firstly, there seemed to be an infinite number of other Uzumes - none of whom she could interact with - wandering around an environment that seemed to fold in and around itself like one of those M.C. Escher paintings she had always liked. After some observation, she had been able to discern that she was in some sort of infinite time loop. Some of the Uzumes she could see were doing things she had done just previously and some were doing things that she would later discover herself doing in the 'future.'

In addition to the mind-bending perspectives, whenever she walked into a room in this place, she would be looking into one of her memories. If she were dead, like she suspected, she had definitely gone in the downward direction. None of the memories she was forced to relive were happy ones. The worst part was she felt compelled to keep opening new doors in the hope a good memory would surface. One of Chiho…

She knew she had no right to expect them. She was deactivated; Chiho was no longer her Ashikabi. Worse, she was no longer Chiho's Sekirei. That was hell in and of itself.

She was pragmatic enough to understand that there probably would have been another Ashikabi she might have reacted with had she not met Chiho. She had only had a mild reaction to the girl, after all. Nothing like what all of Minato's birds had described. But for her, it was the sense of belonging that she was after at the time of her winging rather than true love. She had grown to love her Ashikabi, but not in the way most Sekirei desired. Chiho was family, the true sister she had always wanted.

None of this explained why she knew she was still Uzume. The loss of Chiho was enough for her to seriously wish for the loss of her sense of self to have disappeared. She would not have been so pissed off if it had just been the MBI pricks who had told her what to expect when her core was silenced. She had long since realized they knew fuck all about anything or just lied straight up to the Sekirei about everything.

No, it was Miya who had told her about the end of ends. It was a scary thought, just losing who you were, even if you were still technically alive. Miya put it in perspective for her. 'Would you want to remember that you had lost your Ashikabi?' Because that was an inevitability. Deactivation severs the bond, no ifs, ands, or buts. MBI she had no trust in, but Miya she knew would not lead her birds astray. So what the fuck was going on?

On the one hand, she was feeling betrayed. How could Miya lie to her? Worse than that how could she plant the worst possible thought in her head about retaining her consciousness post-deactivation while telling her she would never have to worry about it? On the other hand, she was glad she was still her, despite being locked in this version of hell on a loop. If she was actually dead, she definitely felt she deserved the punishment for all the sins she had committed in her own selfishness.

Despite the cycle of guilt and depression, Uzume could not help but feel like there was something far more significant happening to her than just being dead. Some sense niggled at her mind that this existence had more purpose than eternal torment.

As she concentrated, trying to expand this sense, she was distracted by a wail from one of the other Uzumes. Recognizing it as one of her past selves walking out of a particularly horrible memory, she absently used her veils to plug her ears so she could resume thinking in peace.

Suddenly, her eyes shot open in revelation. _I still have my power!_ It should not be possible. Her core was deactivated! She quickly turned her senses inward to make sure, but as she expected, there was none of the familiar feeling of warmth and power that she associated with her Sekirei core. Surely, true hell would not let her keep her powers, right? What the fuck was going on?

A cracking sound and some dust in her line of sight brought Uzume out of her reverie. Looking up she saw breaks and fissures beginning to form in the architecture all around her. She noted that all the other Uzumes had mysteriously disappeared, and apparently the rules of gravity were now in proper alignment. All the dust and debris from the disintegrating worldscape was falling in the same direction.

The destruction began to accelerate, and realizing the precariousness of her current situation, Uzume raised her veils up into a protective dome over her head. As the debris and rubble crashed down around her and bounced off her reinforced shield, she thought frantically trying to determine why the world was literally falling to pieces around her. _Maybe it's because, I realized that I still had powers?_ Even with all she'd seen since her deactivation, she was skeptical it could be something so esoteric.

Eventually, the sounds of destruction tapered off. Fearing that lowering her shield would result in being crushed by the accumulated detritus, Uzume walked around her dome and tentatively poked the cloth to determine the extent of her enclosure. To her surprise, every spot she tested seemed to have nothing on the other side. Still wary, she gently peeled back a section of overlaid veils to peer carefully outside her protective dome.

Shocked at what she saw, the dome of cloth slackened and fell limp around her. Turning rapidly around on the spot she stood, and craning her neck in every direction, Uzume found herself standing on a craggy outcropping - or what used to be one anyway - of rock that was seemingly floating in an endless black void. Despite there being no obvious light source, she could see her immediate surroundings clearly. Not that there was much to see.

Apart from the endless nothingness around her, the only thing to see was a strange archway on the other side of her rocky perch. The archway was not actually arch-shaped, rather it resembled one of those standing stone structures she had seen pictures of from somewhere on the other side of the Earth from Japan. She had never been one for geography; a pretty useless study for someone confined to one city on one relatively small island for her entire life.

Curious of this new development, Uzume stepped forward lightly to examine the portal. It was fairly primitive though nonetheless impressive, consisting of three massive stones. As she approached, she was able to discern that all three stones were covered in etchings that seemed to be writing of some sort. The lindle stone had a curious symbol traced in the center, a circle inside a triangle, both of which were bisected by a vertical line. Each line of the symbol was composed of more of the etched writing. Something about the pictogram called to her, pulling her even closer.

The closer she came the more fascinated she became. Something she could not see from further away that became clear was that there was a curtain hanging across the portal, though it had no visible hooks or supports that she could see to keep it in place. Its material was the deepest black that she had ever seen, easily blending into the blackness of the void around her. _Not a curtain… a veil!_

At her revelation, she felt her white veils being pulled away from her and out of her control. Panicking, she exerted all the control she could muster, but their progress towards the portal was inexorable. As soon as the first edge of her white cloth touched the black veil, the slow tug became a powerful yank. In self preservation, Uzume let go completely as she was stripped of her precious defense.

She clenched her fists in desperate frustration. What good was having her power, it she had lost her veils? She had thought her hell was over with the destruction of the Escher worldscape, but this new reality was not shaping up much better. She felt naked without her veils. Well, she actually was naked, they had also been serving as her clothing at the moment.

Of course, Uzume was never one to really care about physical nudity. She never really had cared about modesty, though she was not ignorant of it like poor Musubi. She had a kick-ass figure, so she never saw a reason to be ashamed if someone saw it in all its glory. Plus, being able to manipulate cloth like she could, made self-waxing exceedingly easy. The Brazilian still hurt like a bitch, but at least she could get everything in one go. Considering veils were often thought of as tools used to conceal, it was a bit ironic that the Veiled Sekirei had no qualms about baring it all.

Despite her anger at the portal before her for robbing her of her weapons, it still fascinated her. Still called her closer in what she recognized as an unnatural way. As she drew closer she saw the veil begin to ripple despite there being no breeze and her not using her power. Enthralled by it as she was, she wasn't about to try touching that particular veil if she could help it. It seemed to be composed of the void and that could not be good.

The rippling increased and started to become somewhat violent. For the first time, Uzume managed to take a step back from the archway in wariness. She was glad she did as the next moment, the curtain blew inward as a man began falling through from the other side in what appeared to be slow-motion. However, as soon as the man's body crossed the threshold, it began disintegrating until only a small glowing orb about the size of her fist remained.

As interesting as the sight of the disappearing man was, Uzume's gaze was fixed behind him into brief glimpse she was given of the space beyond the veil of nothing. For the tiniest of moments, she felt it. Her face flushed, goose flesh rose on her exposed skin, and her arousal spiked. Her knees gave out on her and she dropped heavily to them with a moan. "A-ashikabi…"

Despite being close to release, Uzume was able to observe several things about the world beyond the portal. The first thing she noticed was there was some sort of fight or battle occurring, though it looked like something out of a manga or video game since the combatants were all shooting different colored beams at each other, like laser guns.

Before the fabric dropped back down to obscure her vision she was able to focus her sight on the one making her react. He was looking right at her after all. Well, not exactly, he was looking at the disintegrating man with a look of pure and utter despair etched across his surprisingly young face. The last things she was given before the veil fell again were a vision of his shockingly green eyes and the agonized sound of his voice, "SIRIUS!"

Despite the pain displayed in both eyes and voice, they both served only to spike her arousal. Her left hand slid quickly up across her kneeling body to grasp frantically at her right breast, flicking her hardened nipple between her index and middle finger as she squeezed desperately. Her right hand had journeyed south over the smooth skin of her belly over her mound and into the folds of her pussy. As soon as her fingers made contact with her engorged clit, her mind exploded with pleasure.

Uzume was certainly no stranger to self-pleasure. With a sickly Ashikabi, there was never much in the way of physical intimacy. It was one of the reasons she saw Chiho more as a sister than a lover, unlike most Sekirei/Ashikabi relationships. Unfortunately, Uzume had as many needs as the next woman, probably more considering her Sekirei nature. So she routinely spent at least a couple hours a day scratching her own itch.

Orgasms, while necessary for her satisfaction, had never come easy and when they did they were more like a warm hug. But this was like nothing she had ever felt before. Wave upon wave of pleasure crashed over her for nearly five minutes, not that time seemed to mean anything in this void. Every muscle in her body spasmed, her back arching, thrusting her breasts out as her moan escalated to a continuous shriek of bliss.

 _Holy shit!_ she thought as she finally felt the pleasure ebb. A loopy grin crawled across her face as she imagined finding that boy and locking him in room with her for a week or so. _A few seconds of his presence and the sound of his voice, and this is what he does to me? Sign me up!_ Immediately upon that thought, she felt both guilty and confused. The thoughts felt like the ultimate betrayal to Chiho. She had to forcibly remind herself, that Chiho was no longer her Ashikabi. There was no connection between them anymore, which led to the confusion. How the hell could she be reacting to someone if she had no Sekirei core?

Two solutions to the quandary presented themselves, neither of which gave her much comfort. The first was that she still had her core, which would have been good except she felt no connection to it. If there was no connection, how could it grant her use of her powers or make her react to someone? These questions led her to the second conclusion, which made her both angry and delighted. The only other scenario was that a Sekirei's power did not come from their core at all, that being a Sekirei was more than just being a human with a special battery.

Initially, the thought filled her with joy, knowing that she was and would always be Uzume the Veiled Sekirei. Nothing could take that away from her. But the more she thought about it, the more she realized how well she, and all the other Sekirei, had been played. Not by MBI, but by Miya. All those stories about what Sekirei were and how their powers worked and the role of Ashikabi-all just smoke blown up her veils. So what was the point of the cores? Why were they there? Her thoughts began to spiral out of control before she was abruptly brought back to the present.

"Oh YES! Moony, you so owe me 10 galleons!" a voice practically shouted in a semblance of joy. "Ha, fucker thought there'd be no way I made it to heaven. Well, super-fit naked birds cumming at the mere sight of me seems pretty fucking heavenly to me, Moony! So there!"

"Not very likely," she said with a snort of amusement. Uzume had always been one to roll with whatever situation she was handed. Perverted disembodied voices were certainly unusual, but considering she thought the possibility that she was dead was at least 70% likely, why should there not be a ghost or two flitting about? Looking around with curiosity rather than panic, she noticed the small iridescent orb - which she absently remembered the disintegrating man turning into - bobbing around in the general vicinity of her nether regions.

"Alright, alright, Mr. Ghost-man. Show's over. Besides, I'm pretty sure this is _not_ heaven, and it certainly wasn't you revving my engine. It was that green-eyed hunk on the other side…" She trailed off with a dreamy expression crossing her face. Noticing the orb-thingy had yet to move, she closed her legs to cut off the view.

With what she could somehow understand as disappointment, the ball of light floated upwards, stopping at chest height. This man had been a serious pervert, but as long as he could have an informative conversation while doing so, she was not going to begrudge him staring at her tits. They were quite impressive, if she said so herself.

"Hunk? Harry?" The orb quivered as the voice tried to hold back laughter. Apparently, he took at least a brief look at her face to see the sudden scowl that had come across it. This pervert was making fun of her Ashikabi...well, hopefully he would be her Ashikabi, if she wasn't actually dead. Her scowl deepened at the thought.

"Sorry, sorry," the voice placated. "I love the lad as if he were my own, and I couldn't be more proud or jealous that he has a smokin' bird like you pining for him. But I'm not sure anyone would call Harry a 'hunk'. Bit on the scrawny side, after all."

"His name is Harry?" This query seemed to through the ghost for a loop. She had no way to know for certain, but she guessed if he had a face at the moment it would be showing outright shock. Realizing that neither of them knew the other, "My name is Uzume, by the way."

"You don't know who Harry is?" Incredulity was plastered all over his voice, though she could not tell if it was because this Harry was famous or because she had popped the big O thinking of someone whose name she did not even know. She figured it was the former, since most people masturbated to thoughts nameless faceless sex idols from time to time. "Oh, sorry, I'm Sirius, Sirius Black, or rather I was. You really don't know who Harry is?"

"Only seen him once," she replied nonchalantly. "When you fell through that portal-thingy over there, the veil across it lifted, he was running towards, well, I suppose towards you, seeing as he called out 'Sirius' while your body was disintegrating."

"Wait, so you saw him for maybe, what, one second?"

"It was more like 30 seconds," Uzume replied. "I think time flows a bit differently where we are; you all seemed to be moving in slow-motion. And don't ask me, I have no idea what this place is either. I just got here a minute or so before you did."

"Still, 30 seconds to both inflate and burst your bubble? James will be so proud," Sirius stated in a teary sounding voice.

"You certainly have a one-tracked mind, don't you?"

"Sorry, but when the most beautiful woman I've ever seen is sitting in front of me, naked as a jay, and she just had the most explosive orgasm I've ever witnessed, it's difficult to stray far from the topic." Despite knowing he was trying to charm her, Uzume could not stop the slight coloring of her cheeks. Most beautiful? She knew she was hot, but she thought she was only middle of the road compared to some of the other Sekirei. She absently wondered if this Sirius guy would even be able to speak if Miya were here instead.

"Well, I don't know about all that, but can you try to focus a bit? Tell me about Harry."

"Who's got a one-tracked mind?" the orb mumbled, though not soft enough for her not to hear it. The slight scowl on her face must have indicated that he was caught if the hasty clearing of his 'throat' was any indication. His tone turned serious as he continued, however. "Why do you want to know about Harry?"

"Well, apart from the obvious," Uzume coughed a bit, embarrassed by the smirk she could feel Sirius-orb giving her. "He seemed so lost. His eyes were full of sorrow, and not just the sudden agony of seeing you die, or whatever happened to you. There was deep, long-held sadness. Not to mention some serious frustration and resentment. I can't stand to see my Ashikabi in pain, but I can't fix it if I don't understand it."

"What's an Osh-kosh-bigosh?" Sighing, she began to explain to Sirius all about Sekirei. For the next hour or so she regaled him with their history, their powers, their connection to Ashikabi's, the Jinki, the whole works including her recent epiphanies about from where a Sekirei's power arose.

Throughout the story, Sirius listened with a critical 'ear'. He would ask her questions to get to the heart of matters she had never thought about, especially concerning her anger at Miya regarding the Sekirei cores.

"I take it, you've never had children?" he asked. She shook her head, somewhat confused by his question. "Then you've never known the lengths a mother would go to protect their children, including lie, cheat, and steal from them to prevent a more heinous crime against them. These cores, were placed in you before you were born, before you even left your planet. This MBI exploited all of you for your powers, which were fantastic to a normal human even limited as they were. What do you think they would have done if they had known your powers could be passed to your children, even children born with regular humans? I wouldn't hold Miya and the other Pillars in disdain for protecting me from that fate."

"But the other five sets of Sekirei had children. We wouldn't have had Ashikabi without them!" Uzume responded, not fully grasping what Sirius was implying.

"Putting aside the fact that the original five sets of Sekirei found Ashikabi on a planet where no Sekirei had been before, none of your modern Ashikabi - those descended from Sekirei - had Sekirei powers did they?" he responded. "I would venture to say that not only did the cores limit their power, they also prevented them from being passed to their children. Sekirei blood, yes, powers no."

"But the whole point of leaving our planet was to save our race!" She huffed indignantly. "Why would the Pillars deliberately sabotage that plan? It makes no sense!"

"Unless they knew exactly where they were headed before they left and had done some research on humans beforehand," he riposted. "We are a greedy and prideful people, Uzume. Even millennia ago when your ships landed, we were, as a whole, bad people. If your powers could have been passed down with your blood, you would have been slaves to your Ashikabi, used only to produce as many children as possible. As it were, I think some of your early compatriots did in fact overcome the limitations of their cores, just as you seem to have, but I'll get into that more later. I want to hear more about you."

She hesitated slightly when it came to her personal history, but Sirius seemed very protective of this Harry, and he did not seem likely to give up information to someone he held no trust in. So she gave him her story.

Her situation with Chiho had taught Uzume a lot about pain, sorrow, and frustration. The pain she felt watching her Ashikabi suffer and knowing she had no power to fix it. The sorrow of knowing she did not love Chiho like she was supposed to, despite their bond. The frustration of being forced to commit horrible crimes so Higa would keep Chiho alive. The worst part being that she wanted Chiho alive more for her own sense of belonging than for Chiho's well being.

If she had a chance to start over, to try again, she was damn sure that she was going to do better, be a better person. If Harry was her new Ashikabi, she would make sure that she devoted herself to him without question. She would not exploit him for her own selfish desires, nor would she allow him to be exploited. She had been drawn to Chiho's suffering in a bid to make herself feel better by being needed. She was certainly drawn to Harry's apparent suffering, but she would not form a bond with him for herself. She would only bond if she could help him.

"What if just bonding with him helped?" Sirius asked with in a somewhat haunted tone. It seems he had come to the decision that she was trustworthy enough to talk about Harry.

"What do you mean?" Uzume was a bit confused. Harry seemed young. Gaining a bonded mate at his age would usually be seen as more of a burden than helpful.

"You were right that Harry has a lot of pain and sorrow locked up inside him," Sirius began. "I guess I should start at the beginning." Sirius told the tale of Harry Potter as well as he knew it: how he was well-known even before birth just because of his family, how he became famous for events beyond his control at the age of 1. At this point, Sirius had diverged a bit into his own story to explain why he was not around for Harry's early childhood and why he did not know a lot of details about it. But he certainly had suspicions, suspicions that set Uzume's blood boiling in rage just imagining it.

Sirius had more concrete knowledge of what had occurred in Harry's life after he turned 13. Uzume was fascinated by the idea of humans with powers as he told her about Harry discovering his 'magic' as he called it and receiving his invitation to a school designed to teach him how to wield it properly. The next five years of Harry's life were described in greater detail since Harry had been more inclined to talk about them with Sirius. He still rarely talked about any of his time outside of school, apparently. Only mentioning incidents that revolved around magic.

He talked about Harry's friends and enemies. And the more Sirius talked about the goings on at this school Harry attended, the more Uzume began to suspect some of his friends should be listed in the other category. Especially this Dumbledore fellow. The more she learned of him, the more he sounded like Minaka - though less blatantly insane - which just made him that more dangerous.

When Harry turned 15, Sirius digressed into his own story a bit and how he had broken out of prison in an attempt to protect Harry. Uzume was beginning to realize that Sirius had had a bit of a reckless streak in him, and he had a tendency to rush headlong into situations he probably should not have. Of course the way he described Harry was very similar.

As Sirius talked about Harry's fame and the boy's inability to deal with it, Uzume gained a glimmer of an understanding as to what he meant about the bonding alone helping Harry. The kid had no innate understanding of what friendship was, or what it meant to be loved. His unnaturally strong attachment to this Weasley family was a prime example. Based on what Sirius said, it sounded an awful lot like, poor Harry was being used. Maybe not by all of them (it was an admittedly large family), but certainly this Ron guy. And any mention of the sister was starting to raise Uzume's hackles.

Of all of Harry's friends, only the Hermione girl seemed to be truly genuine. Sure, there was some hero-worship underlying everything, but what girl would not look at their savior without a bit of reverence. The important part was that Hermione seemed to have outgrown the awe and still wanted to remain friends with Harry, just to be friends. She said as much to Sirius.

"I agree," he responded. "There are a few others I haven't really talked about much that are true to Harry, but of those he considers close, Hermione is the one I trust the most. Actually, I had hoped romance would spark there, but Harry doesn't see her that way. Plus, he's pretty sure she's a witch's witch, though he's too polite to just ask."

"Why wouldn't he know already? If she was a real friend, would she not have told him?" She was a bit baffled by the situation.

"Well, same-sex relations are not really looked well upon in the Wizarding world. He probably doesn't want to embarrass her or make her uncomfortable," Sirius remarked.

"Seriously? They wouldn't like me much then."

"But, I thought…" Sirius sounded confused. She realized at this point that she must not have made a strong indication that Chiho was female. Not that she had ever done much in the intimacy department with Chiho, but she did find her attractive.

"Chiho, my previous Ashikabi was a girl, Sirius," she clarified.

"But, what about Harry?" He was starting to sound very concerned.

"Relax, I'm a very open person, Sirius. I don't really concern myself with gender overmuch." It was true; there were fun things to do no matter how you were plumbed. "I just want to be happy and make the person I'm with happy, no matter who they are."

"Well, if you ever get out of this place, I want you to promise me, you will do your best to make Harry happy." Sirius' orb got very close to her face as he asked this of her, as if to impart the gravity of his request.

"If _I_ ever get out? Don't you mean we?" Uzume leaned back a bit, slightly uncomfortable with his closeness for some reason. He backed down a bit and seemed to take on a mournful air. He floated back over towards the portal.

"You don't know what this is, do you?" he stated. He floated all around the stones as if he was reading the unintelligible script. "It looks a lot different on this side."

"What are you talking about?" Uzume asked, thoroughly confused. "What is it?"

"On the other side, it looks like a continuous stone archway," he responded. "There's no runes, and it always looks like it's about five seconds from crumbling to dust. I guess that makes sense, in a morbid sort of way. In life, death is the end and often comes when you are at your weakest. In death, death is eternal is strong. This archway is known as the Veil of Death. You don't get to return when you've passed through it."

"So, I am dead," Uzume mused, almost unconcerned. It made sense.

"I don't think so," Sirius responded, startling her a bit. It must have shown on her face. "Don't you notice anything different about us?"

It hit her like a truck. How did she have a body? If Sirius was the norm for someone in death, how was she here on this side of the Veil with her body fully intact. Something was definitely not right about that. As she was musing on the strangeness of her situation, she almost missed Sirius pulsing faster and faster.

"Sirius? What's happening?"

"I think," his voice sounding distant, "our time is almost up."

"What? Wait, you never told me about why you thought there were unbound Sekirei!" She had almost forgotten during his story about Harry. The sound of chuckling came from Sirius' fading light.

"I'll leave you to think about that," he answered. "Just be very careful who you talk to about it." He may have tried to say more, but his glow was nearly completely extinguished. Only two more words managed to make it to her ears, and then he was gone. "Save him…"

Uzume huffed in frustration as she was once again left alone. At least she knew she was not exactly dead. But she had no idea how to get back to the world of the living. She still did not want to touch that veil. And if she did get back, where would she return? Somehow, she had never gotten around to asking Sirius where exactly he and Harry were from. Despite them being able to understand each other, something told her she had not been speaking the same language as Sirius. And with their magical world being kept secret, how would she even enquire about the few places he had talked about?

She was brought out of her musings as the Veil began to ripple again like it did just before Sirius came through. _This is it! When the Veil blows open again, I can rush underneath it,_ she thought, though her excitement was tinged with something niggling at the back of her mind: like there was something important she had forgotten.

While she was never the most girly of girls, she did occasionally have bouts of overly-romantic fantasy. As the fabric grew more agitated, Uzume's anticipation grew. She could practically see Harry standing right in front of her with arms wide, ready to sweep her off her feet. _Wait, that's not a fantasy...he's right there! Shit!_

Instantly, she realized what had been teasing at her brain. _Time!_ She had been talking with Sirius for what seemed like hours, but based on her last glimpse to the other side, time moved much slower over there. What was hours spent in conversation here, might have only been a few minutes, or even seconds in the living world!

The Veil had parted for the briefest of moments in its frantic fluttering, and she had just barely glimpsed Harry barrelling headlong towards her, albeit in slow-motion. The thought that the battle she had seen might still be going on and that it had only been a fraction of a moment since Harry saw his godfather fall through the Veil of Death had not occurred to her. Yet from what she could gain from that small look through, that was exactly what was happening.

Without much thought, Uzume sprang into motion. She could not let her Ashikabi literally throw his life away. He was much more important than her wariness of the Veil's fabric. So she ran straight towards the portal. She was not very far away from it, and with her enhanced Sekirei speed, she should have made it there in no time. But in her mind's eye, it seemed to take forever to cover the distance.

The Veil had just begun to part in earnest - and she could see Harry's hand outstretched as if to grasp his godfather's long since departed form - when she raced over the threshold of the archway. Time seemed to stop altogether as her body made contact with the fabric of the Veil. Pain lanced through her entire body as she felt something expanding within her, like her structure could no longer contain the forces of life within her. Or rather the forces of Death.

Through the agony she was experiencing, she came to the realization that she had made a serious mistake. When she had reached the doorway and touched the Veil, she had, almost unconsciously, extended her power to attempt to control the cloth into forming a barrier that Harry could not pass through. Unfortunately, this was no normal textile.

Rather than reject her attempt at control, the Veil of Death's connection to her power increased in intensity, filling Uzume with an acute understanding of the barrier between life and death. The pain and feeling of exponential expansion arose from the moment when she was able to feel every soul that was passing on all over the world and the multitude of worlds across the universe all at once, with no way to block the sensation.

Then, as rapidly as it was there, it was gone: leaving her feeling tiny in her own shell for a brief moment. The power to sense death was still there, it was the creepiest thing she had ever felt. But if it stayed limited like it was now, she could roll with it. She felt the Veil responding eagerly to her touch now as it wrapped around her body, much like her old white veils. Unfortunately, she was not given much time for introspection as she was still moving quite quickly despite stumbling a bit due to the influx of power.

She also discovered that physics was a bitch.

* * *

 **pi R round's English Tutor/Pet Peeve Corner**

 **Today's Lesson: Homey vs. Homely**

 **How many times have you been reading through a fic and you come across some descriptive writing in which the author has described some pleasant place or person as 'homely'? Probably more often than you can count. Many of you may not even realize what the problem here is. Allow me to enlighten you. From dictionary . com:**

 **Homey: (adj.) 1. comfortably informal and inviting; cozy; homelike**

 **Homely** **: (adj.) 1. lacking in physical attractiveness; not beautiful;** **unattractive. 2. not having elegance, refinement, or cultivation. 3. properly suited to the home or to ordinary domestic life; plain; unpretentious 4. commonly seen or known.**

 **Ok, so we can see here that while some authors may be trying to imply correctly that what they are describing as 'homely' is plain or simple, let alone ugly or unrefined, most writers are likely using the word incorrectly, and they are probably trying to use the definition of 'homey' to describe their object.**


	2. It's All Relative

**A/N: Wow! I'm blown away by the response from the first chapter. One week and already 10 reviews, 50+ favs, and 100+ followers. So because of your amazing support, here we are; this is the first 2nd chapter to a story that I've actually published in the last five years.**

 **You'll notice that this chapter is significantly shorter than the first. I know a lot of you like long chapters, but I prefer chapter cut offs that make sense rather the word max/min limits. As such, there will be a wide range of chapter lengths. Plus not forcing myself to write past where I want helps me keep the flow going and results in faster updates, which we all enjoy. I'm going to try to make updates every Tuesday, but I already know I'm going to regret saying that. Deadlines and I have never really seen eye to eye.**

 **So, I don't really like my title for this story, but I'm having trouble coming up with something better that fits. I would love to hear your thoughts and suggestions for a more fitting title. And no, I will not rename it 'Piece of Shit'.**

 **WARNING: Character death in this chapter, but alas, no sexy times.**

 **DISCLAIMER: See first chapter.**

* * *

 _ **Chapter 2: It's All Relative**_

Uzume would be the first to tell anyone that she was no brainiac. She was by no means dumb, but her intelligence was more of a worldly street smarts than the more recognized institutional standards. Ask her to read a person's intentions or get the feel of a crowd, no problem. Explain the complexities of relativistic physics? Not likely. Unfortunately, being ignorant of the laws of the universe does not mean one is not subject to them.

As Uzume slammed painfully into the stone wall on the opposite side of the Death Chamber, she only had one thought in her head. _Fuck you, Physics…_ While Einstein might have never thought a localized time dilation field would ever be possible, his theories on relative motion were certainly accurate enough to describe what happens when you run through a space where time moves faster into a space where it moves slower.

Uzume, being a Sekirei and a rather agile one at that, was moving towards the archway at roughly 12 meters per second (m/s). Unfortunately, time was stretched across the portal such that one second where she started was only about 5 milliseconds where she ended. Luckily, she had stumbled and slowed a bit crossing the threshold, so rather than zooming across the room at a cool 2400 m/s, she hit the wall at only ~1,000 m/s.* Well, thank whomever for small favors, right?

Without her enhanced body, not to mention whatever new power she had regarding death, she would definitely have just been blood spatter in a crater. As it was, she was at least a couple broken bones and a vaguely humanoid ball of pain in a crater. The only thing she felt happy about right now was that her stumble had caused her to miss Harry and not carry either him or a chunk of his body with her into said crater.

Through her pain addled mind, she was able to hear that there were no sounds of combat. Not that she knew what magical warfare should sound like, but she figured it would not be silent, as it currently was. Braving even more pain, she attempted to swivel her head to see what was happening behind her. _Bad idea…_ Not only did the movement aggravate several of her injuries, a broken nose and at least one rib, but it dislodged some the shattered stones that had been hanging precariously above her.

What she could see before she closed her eyes in a wince as the stones fell on her, was highly amusing. With a couple exceptions, the dozen or so people in the room were all staring in her direction with looks of dumbfounded shock plain on their faces. Several of them had their arms up with those sticks they called wands in their hands and looked like they had stopped mid-cast.

In a way, she was glad the rubble had shifted. Otherwise she would have laughed, and with a broken rib or two that would have caused more damage than a bit of broken masonry falling on her. Sekirei had strong skin and bones, but their internal organs were just as delicate as any human's. As such, a hundred pound stone falling on her perfectly intact right shoulder was nothing compared to a broken rib piercing her lung. And while it was not terribly painful, it did distract her from the hilariously gawping faces. Unfortunately, it also broke them out of their stupor.

Most of them went right back to slinging variously colored beams of light at each other. Though still wincing from her movement and the shifting rubble, Uzume was able to sense that at least one of the combatants decided to take a potshot at the wounded chick. Annoyed, she moved the only part of her that was not in searing agony to defend herself.

Lacing her power through the new material that now obeyed her will, she raised the fabric of the Veil of Death up around her in a half-dome shield. She knew the spell - as she remembered Sirius calling them - was coming towards her, not which direction it originated from. Rather than splash against the cloth or rip through it, the yellow colored spell seemed to simply disappear-swallowed by the inky blackness that made up the Veil's material. As the spell was absorbed, Uzume was momentarily stunned by an inrush of information.

The spell was some sort of evisceration curse, fired at her by a man named Lucius. There was a jumble of other information that she could make neither heads nor tails of, though she was able to understand that this man was fighting against Harry and his friends. There were flashes of memories that she recognized as Lucius' but any conversations were spoken in what she recognized as English, a language of which she knew only a handful of words, most of them profanities.

Uzume was quick enough on her feet to realize that the information had come from the spell, but she had no idea why. The how was obviously her new veils. She was going to have to learn a lot more about this magic business if she had any hope of understanding. Honestly, she was just glad that spell had been blocked. She was in enough pain as it was without having her insides suddenly become her outsides.

Realizing that now was not really the time to be moping about, she used her new veils to prop herself up as gently as she could given the need for swiftness. Sensing that the material she now wielded had quite a bit of extendability, she used it to wrap tightly around her torso to stabilize her damaged rib cage. There was little she could do about her nose at the moment, but she had no choice but to set her dislocated left shoulder and elbow. There was no way she could fight with it flopping around uselessly. It would just get in the way, not to mention hurt like a motherfucker.

Despite looking more unnatural, resetting the dislocated elbow would have been a lot easier, if not for the shoulder above it also being out of alignment. So she grit her teeth and used her new veils to position her upper arm in the correct position to rotate it back into its socket. Normally she would likely have just tried to jam it in, but she had recently seen a nurse perform this exact procedure as she entered the hospital to visit Chiho.

She knew screaming would only draw more attention to herself, something she did not want in the middle of a battle, so she managed to limit herself to a harsh grunt as she manipulated her left arm back into place. She decided to just rip the bandaid off completely and swiftly popped her elbow back in place before the pain from her shoulder could ebb.

She quickly used more of The Veil to place her left arm into a sling. She would be at a disadvantage fighting with only one arm, but at least it was secure now. Checking the lower half of her body, Uzume was happy to note there were no broken bones. She did have a sprained right ankle, but again she was able to wrap it up tight enough that she could at least move. Aside from some small cuts and bruises, she figured she was as combat ready as she was going to get. As she made to climb out of her crater she came face to tip with a wand pointing directly between her eyes.

"That's far enough," a deep voice intoned. Of course, Uzume had absolutely no clue as to what the very tall and well-built black man had actually said. Not realizing she had taken quite a bit more time to sort out her injuries than she thought, her first instinct was that the battle was still raging and the man had just said some sort of spell. She reacted automatically, bringing her veil up to push the man's wand away from her face. That was a mistake.

When the spell had impacted her new veils previously, she had learned only the smallest amount about the man called Lucius. As The Veil touched this man's hand, her brain was overwhelmed with information. She knew everything there was to know about Kingsley Shacklebolt in the barest of an instant. His favorite foods, favorite color, where he kept his porn collection, the details of the torrid affair he had had with his boss a few years ago. She knew everything, including all his memories of growing up, learning to speak, read, write. She knew all of his training in magic and law enforcement. It was all there.

The feeling she had when she first touched The Veil returned. She had too much information all at once, and her brain just could not process it all. Eventually the pressure reached a maximum, though it did not subside. In order to relieve some of it, Uzume focused on Kingsley's memories of his language. Even just that fraction was so complex, and with her headache was nearly impossible to focus on. She managed to glean enough from the memories to get at least a rough understanding of English. Certainly enough to recognize that Kingsley had not been trying to curse her after all.

The pressure reduced by a small fraction to the point where she could hear that someone was screaming. As she regained more awareness, she realized it was her. And why should she not be screaming? Her brain was fit to explode!. Forcing herself to calm down and fight through the pain, she looked around. Again, everyone seemed to be looking at her, this time with mixture of different emotions, none of them very favorable.

There were a few people that were tied up in ropes or chains, apparently the losers of the battle. Several of them were unconscious but those who were awake were watching her with either a sadistic glee or calculated intrigue tinged with fear. The other adults in the room without exception had their wands trained on her with expressions ranging from deep sorrow to horror to righteous rage.

However, the one person she wanted most to see was nowhere to be found. Perhaps that was a good thing, she could not bear to see him look at her with rage and hatred in his eyes like the others. There were several young people around Harry's age all watching her with shock tinged with confusion. Uzume was with them. Other than her screaming like a loon a second ago, she had no idea why they were all looking at her like that. Nor did she receive any time to ponder.

All at once, a barrage of spells, mostly red in color, was launched at her. She groaned; this was going to hurt. Her head was still reeling from Kingsley's memory download, and if something similar happened when blocking these spells as did with Lucius' spell earlier, she was in for a world of pain. Seeing no alternative, she snapped her veils in place and, true to theory, received what she now realized were only small fragments of information about the spells and their casters.

As the new information fully overloaded her and she began to succumb to the onslaught she realized how ironic it was that she was absorbing stunning spells. Though none of them touched her, the feedback was essentially doing the same job. Her vision grew spotty, and she fell further out of the crater onto her hands and knees. As she did so, she came face to face with Kingsley Shacklebolt.

He was lying supine, staring blankly upwards with an expression halfway between the stern one he had been wearing when he spoke to her and one of shock. In that moment, before she was finally and fully overwhelmed, Uzume realized that she had not just taken Kingsley's memories; she had taken his everything.

Kingsley Shacklebolt, a man she now knew as intimately as herself, was dead by her hand and she had no idea how.

* * *

 *** Yes I realize I could have converted this to 2.4 km/s and 1 km/s but 2400 and 1000 vs 12 just seemed to have more impact.**

 **pi R round's HP Fanfiction Pet Peeve Corner**

 **Today's Lesson: Using Harry's School Timeline as the Calendar of the Universe**

 **I have admittedly read a lot of HP fanfics, and I see this one a lot. Most people don't even seem to realize they are doing it. It's not an error of grammar or word choice, but it comes off to the reader (a.k.a. me) as a lack of general awareness of the world. As much as we all love Harry and Co., the rest of the world, Magical or Muggle, does not orbit around him.**

 **What exactly do I mean? I'll give you my worst case scenario. Say you're reading a story and there are two adults (as in non-Students) speaking about past events, and they suddenly pop out that "So and So happened third year..." Third year of what? You and I know the author is talking about Harry's third year after matriculating at Hogwarts. But these people, who are not students in the same year of schooling as our hero, would have no context to understand that. The only people who should have a reason to refer to time periods in such a fashion are the students and even then only when they are talking amongst themselves or to people who know them rather well, like family.**

 **Now, I know someone will say, "They're just doing it for the reader's sake, so they understand the timeframe." I say give your readers a bit more credit. If Harry starts school in 1991 as per canon, then an event that occurs in August 1994 would be the summer before his fourth year. Not too hard to do some simple math.**

 **And just so you don't think I'm only calling out fanfic authors, JKR did this too to some extent. Mostly to hide the fact she wasn't able to publish all her books in consecutive years like she wanted, but also so the story remained somewhat timeless. But this is a pet peeve; it might be unreasonable, but it still rankles. (like people saying 'acrosst the street' or 'ecscaped from prison')**


	3. I Think I'm Turning Japanese

**AN: Hello all! So I had a bit of a fanboy moment the other day when I got an alert that the author of one of my favorite HP fanfics is now following this story (thought I wish they would update it soon, or ever again). It's always nice to know that your product is appreciated by those whom you admire.**

 **I'm using a bit of a fanon convention in this story that aging process for wizards and witches is slower once they hit maturity than for non-magical persons. While it is borderline canon that magical people live longer, I don't think JKR ever said they age slower. It really doesn't mean much for the plot or anything. It kind of just slipped into the narrative through a description of a person in this chapter and I was too lazy to go back and change it.**

 **Now I want to address a topic that has come up in a couple reviews. No, this is not a bashing fic. I realize it may have sounded like I was setting up Dumbledore and Weasley bashing in this story, but we all know life is never that simple. Think about someone in your real life that you don't like. Odd on there are people you know that do like that person. In fact, you probably even like someone who likes the person you don't like. The point is that everyone has their own opinions and viewpoints that differ from everyone else's. There will be people on the same side of any conflict that don't get along but they still find it within themselves to work together to get shit done.**

 **Legend for this chapter:**

 **"** _I am speaking Japanese_ **"**

 **'** I am thinking so linguistics doesn't really matter **'**

 **DISCLAIMER: See First Chapter.**

* * *

 _ **Chapter 3: I Think I'm Turning Japanese**_

Uzume was fairly certain she must still be unconscious. At least, she really hoped she was. Otherwise these magic users were just a bit too weird for her tastes. If she were actually awake, then they had turned her into a 6 year-old magenta-skinned boy. And that was just too bizarre to want to comprehend. So she figured she must still be out to lunch and experiencing one of Kingsley's memories.

What the memory was, she had no idea. If she were a brain-type Sekirei, she might have been able to assimilate all the information she had absorbed from the 32 year-old Auror. But judging by the color of her skin, she was still having trouble adapting to the most basic of differences between the way she thought and the way Kingsley did.

The mind was one of the least understood aspects of a sentient creature. It was intimately connected to the soul, a fact Uzume was able to piece together from her time speaking with Sirius. His mind had obviously imprinted on his soul or there would not have been much of a conversation. What was least understood - to the point where no one ever seemed to question it - was how one mind differed from another in how it interpreted all the sensory information sent to it from the body and brain.

Uzume was now intimately aware that someone should be asking these questions. Even the most basic things such as how a given wavelength of visible light was absorbed by the retina, thus triggering a chemical signal to be sent to the brain, seemed be perceived by the mind in different ways. What she saw as brown was obviously seen as magenta by Kingsley.

Not that Kingsley called himself magenta-skinned. There seemed to be a final step that Uzume was missing, which was likely the experience of perceiving magenta and knowing it was brown. She had no idea if that experience was now floating around somewhere in her head and she just had not assimilated it yet or if that was something that was not imprinted on the soul like memories and personality were. Or maybe it was imprinted so strongly on his soul that she could not absorb it before it passed through her to the other side.

She was aware that the power that she now had was connected to souls. Though her experience with the power was admittedly limited, it was difficult to mistake the import. The rush of information about the dying when she had first touched the fabric of The Veil, the small packets of information she absorbed from spells, and everything she had taken from Kingsley when she hit him with the Veil infused with her own power. It all pointed to the soul. Not that she had any idea how that information was useful at the moment, but hey it was something.

Unfortunately, the odd color perception was just the most basic of many differences in the way she and Kingsley thought. The one thing she really hoped she would be able to retain was the knowledge of English that she had briefly gained while she was still connected to him. But whether it was because Kingsley was still alive at that instant or the interpretive experience had passed on with his soul, she had no better understanding of the language she would soon be surrounded by than she had before.

' _Ugh, this is pointless!'_ she spoke to herself, having finally moved through whatever memory she had been 'experiencing'. At least these memories invoked no strong emotions apart from frustration. It was certainly better than that strange Escher-world she had been trapped in before arriving in the void space where she met Sirius. But what was the point of having this power, if it gave her nothing she could use? Worse, what was the point of Kingsley's death if his sacrifice was squandered by her useless brain?

As much as she wanted the memories to either make sense or just stop altogether, she had no desire to return to the waking world either. The one thing she was able to retain, was that Kingsley was one of the 'good guys'. And she had killed him. She had no idea how Harry or his friends would react to that. Would they give her a chance to try to explain? But then, what would be the point, anyway? She had no better understanding of her power than they did at this point. At least not on its practical application.

Uzume had no idea how to control her new power, or even if it was hers to control. Had her powers actually changed? Or was she just using her power over fabric like always, just that the current fabric she was using was the Veil of Death? Horror began to grow in her mind at the thought. If she had no power over the Veil's properties then every time she touched someone with them, the same thing would happen.

Now she had to wake up. She could not let anyone touch her. The prospect was terrifying. She would be lying if she said her reasoning was completely selfless. She really was not sure she could handle another info-dump without having to be committed to a psych ward. Though they would probably just try to kill her in that case, and she likely would have no objections. Except for Harry…

Uzume felt a spike of determination at the thought of never being able to be near him. She would figure out how to control whatever this was. She had to. The alternative was unthinkable to her. More than just controlling it, she vowed that she would find a way to make it useful to his fight. She was no longer bound by the Sekirei Plan, but she was still a Sekirei and built for combat. Her new Ashikabi, her true Ashikabi, had a war to win, and she would do everything in her power to help him do just that.

* * *

The first thing Uzume sensed upon trying to wake was the sound of a somewhat pitiful whimpering. Whoever was making the sound seemed to be at the end of their rope, as if screaming in agony was just too much work despite the pain being no less than deserving of such a display. It truly was heart-wrenching, especially when she realized the sound was coming from her. Had she been screaming and crying the whole time she had been out of it? Granted, she had no bearings to determine how long that might have been, but she felt sorry for whomever was watching over her. Assuming there was someone.

With the realization that she was moaning in distress, the pain was the next sensation that hit her waking mind. Damn her morals, why could she just not stay unconscious? The sensation of fullness to the point of bursting running through her mind and body was still as severe as it was when she had taken Kingsley's soul. She needed a way to either assimilate or purge all of this excess information quickly, or she would lose control. And control was the one thing she must have at all times from now on.

" _Urfgh, did someone get the tag off that Nozomi that hit me?_ " she groaned as she strained just to bring a hand up to rub her temple from where it lay sprawled by her side. She put more effort into the action and realized what the problem was: restraints. Well, it made sense. She had killed one of the good guys, after all.

She noted that her voice was a raspy whisper, probably hoarse from all the screaming she had done. Despite the lack of sound, her statement seemed to draw the attention of someone nearby. She had yet to open her eyes; vision seemed like a sensation that would be unbearable at this point. Besides, if she were in a hospital, the walls and ceiling would likely be stark white with bright fluorescent lighting, and wouldn't that just be a fresh new hell?

Yet she could hear footsteps coming closer: two sets if she had the right of it. One was measured and placid, the other was bustling and authoritative. If she were making a bet, she was in some sort of infirmary and the latter set of feet belonged to the proprietor. The fussy steps reached her first, and the woman they belonged to began saying something in English that Uzume could not interpret. There just were not enough swear words mixed in.

Luckily, Japanese and English did share one thing in common: inflection. She could tell she was being asked a question. She had no idea what the question was, but based on experience with Chiho's nurses and doctors, it was likely a yes or no question. The first questions almost always were. Seeing as Uzume had next to no clue what was going on around her, she figured she had a better than 50% chance that a 'no' would be the correct response.

So she shook her head, followed immediately by emitting a fresh groan of pain and feeling a strong desire to be able to massage her temples. Ok, while sound hurt - a lot - movement was much worse. Maybe the restraints were a good thing. Regardless, she would just have to get her point across verbally. These people were magic users right? They probably had some sort of translation spell they could use.

" _Ugh, I don't understand you, lady. And could you please stop shouting?_ " This request was followed by more unintelligible ramblings from the woman hovering over her. Her voice sounded like the horns of war to Uzume, who groaned again. The excess sound was making her nauseous. " _Seriously, stop yelling, or I'm gonna hurl._ "

She decided she would have to brave the consequences. The need to see what was going on was becoming imperative. Uzume hoped there was a bedpan nearby. She was already feeling pukey from the sound of the woman's voice. Blurry and swimming vision would likely complete the circuit.

As slowly as she could, Uzume began opening her eyes. The good news was there were no fluorescent lights. The bad news: it was obviously late afternoon and bright sunshine was streaming in through the window at the foot of her bed. ' _Yep, definitely hell,_ ' was her only thought before her stomach betrayed her.

Unfortunately, the woman who had been shouting at her was still hovering over her face, and as Uzume was loathe to turn her head to the side… It was the woman's own fault. She was in the medical profession; she had to have known it could happen. Plus, Uzume figured this could not have been the first time she had been hit with projectile vomit.

Also, Uzume had been wrong. The woman had not been shouting at her, but she certainly was now. Of course that only made the problem worse as the increased volume of sound only exacerbated the sense of imbalance and brought a fresh wave of nausea. Apparently, the woman realized what was happening and quickly stopped yelling.

It was at this point Uzume was able to hear another voice, likely connected to the other set of footsteps she had heard. This one was male and sounded older. She also noted that he had a twisted sense of humor as he seemed to be chuckling mirthfully. Thankfully, her stomach had stopped rebelling, though whether because she was regaining equilibrium or there was nothing left to regurgitate, she was unsure. Regardless, that the man was giggling like a loon while she was in pain and his friend was covered in upchuck pointed towards some mental instability, in Uzume's mind.

With squinting eyes, she was finally able to peer around the room in which she was currently being detained. It was certainly unlike any hospital she had ever been in. Granted, her only previous experience was the MBI labs and Hyamakai hospital, but both places had a general color theme involving a lot of white with a spritz of blue here and there. Not to mention, both places were full of high-tech equipment.

In contrast, her current surroundings were mainly of polished masonry in a gothic style: the ceiling being supported by serifed columns leading to vaulted arches. The windows were tall and narrow, also being topped by a vaulted arch. If she had to guess, Uzume would say she was in some sort of cathedral or medieval castle rather than a hospital. About the only thing that this place had in common with the medical facilities she was used to, was the privacy curtains drawn around her bed. And it was just a regular bed, not a hospital gurney or medical bed, which was also kind of weird to her.

She watched curiously as the woman she had defaced, waved her magic stick, or wand or whatever, over herself with a grimace and a single word. All signs of the mess seemed to just vanish, causing Uzume's eyes to widen briefly in wonder. She would have then narrowed them in indignation - why the hell was this woman so upset if she could just wave her stick and make the puke vanish? - but her brain screamed at her that it was a bad idea to let in so much light and spots began forming in her vision. She blinked furiously until it cleared and she was able to examine the two people near her.

The woman, while not young, was certainly not old; Uzume estimated her age to be mid-40's. She had dirty blonde hair with a few streaks of grey beginning at the temples – likely due to the stress of her job rather than simple aging. She had laugh-lines creasing the outside of her almond shaped blue eyes, though she looked like the kind of person who did very little laughing. At least not around her patients. It was obvious that she was a medical professional of some sort judging by the rather traditional-looking nurse's uniform she donned, complete with apron and cap.

Looking to the other occupant of her cordoned off space, she knew right away who this man was. It was impossible to mistake him if Sirius' description was anything like accurate. He looked like a stereotypical western Wizard you might see in a manga: complete with long, white flowing beard, and pointed hat. He was old as dirt and his faded blue eyes had a strange little twinkle to them.

She figured he was a pervert or something since her only experience with twinkly-eyed old men were from the various anime she had watched with Chiho in the hospital. And those guys' eyes only twinkled when they were up to something hentai. She really wished she were not restrained so she could cover herself. It was a novel feeling for her since she really did not care about modesty usually. Just something about the way the man was looking at her made her feel dirty.

Despite her misgivings about the man, she had trouble taking her eyes off Dumbledore. She watched as a small frown pulled down the corners of his mouth and deepened the crinkles between his eyes. The frown was mixed with a slight look of confusion which looked out of place on the wizened old face. Soon the confusion was replaced by determination, and if possible, the damn twinkle intensified even further as he stepped towards her. As he moved, he pulled out a rather ornate looking wand from somewhere in his garish purple and orange robes.

Thoughts raced through Uzume's head of being unwillingly winged and forced to be the wrinkly old man's sex toy. This train of thought certainly did not help her still massive head ache, just adding new thoughts on top of all the memories and feelings still filling her mind to bursting. She whimpered and winced, though for some reason, she still could not take her eyes away from Dumbledore's.

He took a final step towards her, but rather than lean down to kiss her, he raised his wand and placed the tip to her forehead. She almost reached for her power to swat it away before she remembered the consequences of doing so, both for her and the smarmy old man. She gritted her teeth and was finally able to force her eyes closed, breaking whatever connection had built between them. She waited for whatever horror was about to be unleashed upon her. She probably deserved it for what she had done to Kingsley anyway.

However, instead of more pain, Uzume felt the pressure, which had not once abated since her interaction with Kingsley, begin to slacken. It was like the first cool drink of water after being stranded in the desert for days on end. Her eyes snapped open to see that now Dumbledore had his eyes closed and a look of deep concentration on his face. His wand was still touching her forehead, but through her periphery she could see a sort of silvery glow building up around it.

Slowly, he began pulling the wand away from her. As he did so, she was able to see a thick yet wispy strand of sliver light connecting the wand's tip to her head. It almost looked like he was spinning threads of light from her temple. Dumbledore said something to the woman and she immediately bustled off through the curtain. She returned a moment later with a large jar, which she positioned near the old man's side.

Once the jar was in place, the wizard began a strange looping motion with his wand back and forth, towards and away from Uzume's head. As he did so, the strange thread of silvery light began to spool around the wand. Every few loops, he would deposit the building coil into the jar, never breaking the connection, to make one long continuous bundle of silvery thread.

Despite the continuing abatement of the pressure in Uzume's mind, she began to panic as her relief turned to realization of what Dumbledore was actually doing. He was pulling Kingsley out of her. Not his soul, obviously; it had already passed through. But all of his memories and experiences were slowly being filtered out of her consciousness.

She felt rather ambivalent about this process as on the one hand she had no context for understanding any of these memories anyway and it was giving her relief. But on the other, these were the last vestiges of a man she had inadvertently killed with her new powers. She did not want his sacrifice to mean nothing. Her unease with the situation rose steadily the longer the drain continued. Her heart rate increased and her mind raced trying to find some way to stop this before Kingsley was completely lost to her.

Suddenly, the panic was gone. The thoughts about the loss and the understanding behind it were still there but the emotions were almost completely gone. No, not gone, just dampened. It was like there was a wall standing between her thoughts and the emotions they engendered. She looked around and realized the women now also had her wand out and pointed at her, though she was in the process of lowering it. Had she cast a spell that had done this? Uzume was curious, but again that curiosity did not generate any emotion. No fear at being subjected to strange magic or wonder that magic had the capability to do such a thing.

With the lack of emotional connectedness, Uzume was able to watch the process of the memory extraction with a mild sense of curiosity rather than the panic she had felt a moment ago. She also realized that the jar seemed to be getting full, yet there were still a plethora of Kingsley's memories left inside her head. She pondered idly about the physical properties of an extracted memory. Was it solid, liquid, gas, wave? As she looked at all the steps in the method of extraction she could only come up with one answer. Yes.

It looked like a beam of light as it flowed towards the wand, but it retained some properties of a solid seeing as how Dumbledore's motion caused it to coil and roughly keep its shape. When he dropped a coil into the jar, the substance seemed to lose its thread-like quality and spread out to form a continuous layer of what looked like a liquid by the way it sloshed a bit. She also noticed that it seemed to fill up the jar rather quickly, never spilling over, but expanding to the volume of its container like a gas.

She could easily attest that the memories had a pressure, though she thought it was a metaphysical pressure in her mind rather than a physical one. Maybe they could fill the jar with the entirety of Kingsley's memories by just stuffing it in there and building the pressure? If it was gas/liquid like in the jar the theory might have weight.

Uzume was beginning to like the effects of this spell or whatever it was the woman had done to her. She was usually a fairly emotional person, though she tried to keep those emotions as positive as possible. It was interesting to be able to think without those emotions affecting her. Connections she might never have otherwise made formed quite quickly.

She wondered if this is what it felt like in a brain-type Sekirei's mind all the time? She might have believed it of Kochou, who was a frigid bitch in Uzume's opinion. But Matsu showed such a wide range of emotions that she doubted this disconnectedness could be a constant state of being. Maybe she could flip an internal switch when she needed to work her powers?

Uzume's thoughts about increasing the pressure of the memories in the jar and just stuffing it full seemed to have some merit, as the process continued long past what she thought would be the stopping point. As Kingsley's memories and experiences dwindled in her mind she could see beads of sweat beginning to appear on Dumbledore's face. It must have been a difficult process; especially since as far as she could tell, he had only taken Kingsley's memories and none of her own.

There must have been some filtering process that he was controlling along with the extraction itself. As the ratio of Kingsley's memories to Uzume's decreased, the filtering likely grew in difficulty. It was an effort in mental acuity that she had to admire regardless of her misgivings of the man.

Finally, after roughly an hour, the process began to slow until there seemed to be nothing left of Kingsley in Uzume. As the thread of silver began to thin, Dumbledore brought his wand slowly back to her temple such that it seemed the tip of the wand was gliding along a string that connected her head to the jar. The wand once again came to rest on her forehead, and the old wizard closed his eyes, though Uzume could see them moving back and forth rapidly beneath the tired looking lids.

For the first time she realized that he must be able to see into her mind somehow. She knew if she were not under the woman's spell still that she would be freaking out. How had she not realized this earlier? So much for that clarity of thought she had imagined. She really wished she knew how this magic crap worked.

A minute or two of mind-violation later, the old wizard removed his wand from her head and stepped back. He had a strange mixture of emotions written across his face. The most obvious was weariness, but underneath that there was sadness tempered with acceptance. There was also a fair amount of curiosity, though it was tinged with a hint of what Uzume could only describe as desire. Though it was not sexual in nature, for which she was extremely grateful.

It reminded her of the ambitious looks that she would often see cross Izumi Higa's face when he thought no one was looking. Yet it was different as well. Whereas Higa's ambition was selfish, there was a more altruistic undertone to the old man's desire. It honestly surprised her, as her predetermined thoughts on this man were somewhat more negative than what she was reading on his face at the moment. Whether these emotions were true or a carefully crafted lie remained to be seen.

" _Well now, my dear, I think it's time we had a chat._ " The effects of whatever spell the woman had used must be fading, because Uzume certainly felt a great deal of shock at hearing near perfect Japanese issue from Dumbledore's mouth. It must have shown on her face too as the man chuckled a bit at her reaction. The nurse, she noted, had a confused look mingled with a bit of exasperation at the old man's antics. They obviously knew each other quite well.

" _You speak Japanese!_ " The relief was evident in Uzume's voice. She found she might have to be revising her opinions of this man a bit. Not only had he relieved the pressure of Kingsley's memories from her mind, but she now had a way to communicate.

She was a bit too world-wise to suddenly start liking the guy, though. She well knew that people could do good things for bad reasons and bad things for good ones. The world was a grey place; she would not be swayed so easily or swiftly. Sirius had planted quite a few suspicions about Dumbledore in her mind. And while she did not fully trust Sirius either, she could at least trust his concern for Harry, which is what lead him to his conclusions about Dumbledore. Of course Sirius could have been jumping at shadows in a bit of overprotectiveness towards her hopefully soon-to-be Ashikabi. There were enough doubts in both directions for Uzume to feel the need to be wary and keep her eyes and ears open.

" _Indeed,_ " he responded jovially. " _My duties in both domestic and international affairs often cause me to interact with many different people speaking many different languages. I find it politically advantageous to know as many of the languages of the world as I can._ "

" _I suppose I can see that._ " Uzume was a bit confused by the level of honesty he was giving her. She had gotten the impression from Sirius that Dumbledore tended to play things close to the vest. " _It's tough to make friends if you can't understand one another._ " He nodded.

" _It is also easier to gauge an enemy when they feel they can speak freely around you due to that perceived lack of understanding._ " Ah, so there was the angle. She was actually a bit surprised. For a man who could read minds, she figured he would have already been able to tell whether or not she was truly his enemy or at least had a good measure of her.

" _I am not your enemy_ ," ...yet, she thought. She honestly could say she was not anyone's enemy unless they were trying to hurt her future Ashikabi. She still was not sure about Dumbledore's true intentions; all he had was potential. Based on Sirius' description of the old man's status in this wizarding world, he could be a great ally or a great enemy. Uzume would not rush to judgement.

" _And yet a very good friend of mine lies dead, and the entirety of his being now resides in this jar._ " His voice had lost the jollity, though it was not replaced with anger or accusation but with sadness and loss as well as the desire for understanding.

" _It's just his memories,_ " she replied solemnly. His face sharpened, and his presence grew. Uzume was reminded of Miya and that horrible Hanya, so she pressed on quickly hoping to assuage him. " _Kingsley has passed through. There was no pain for his soul._ "

She really wished she knew why she knew these things. She could just sense them to be true. She was not trying to make excuses for what she had done, and Dumbledore seemed to realize that. Oddly, there was a surprisingly large amount of relief in the old man's bearing at her words.

" _Regardless, I would still very much like to know why I had to siphon a lifetime's worth of a friend's memories from your mind._ " Despite his somewhat odd relief at learning of Kingsley's passing, Dumbledore's voice was still stern. He had perfected the grandfather routine so well that she felt like she had been caught with her hand in the cookie jar and had to explain to grandpa why she could not wait until after dinner. She wished she had a good explanation to give him.

" _I don't know._ " He raised a skeptical eyebrow at what he may have perceived as an evasion. " _Honestly, this is all new to me too. I know barely more than you do. Just that Kingsley's soul has passed on through the Veil, and that when it touched him I absorbed all his memories, all at once. I thought I was going to explode there was so much. There was a brief moment where all of his thoughts, memories, emotions, and dreams were as clear as day, then I couldn't make sense of any of it. You all fired those spell-thingies at me and the information overload when they hit the Veil knocked me out. Next thing I know, I'm here still full to bursting until you extracted everything. Thanks for that, by the way._ "

Dumbledore took a moment to process what she had said, though he did nod his acceptance of her gratitude. He seemed a bit taken aback that she had little knowledge of magic. A frown creased his face at her 'spell-thingies' comment though grew very intrigued at the mention of her gaining information from said spells.

For her part, Uzume was unsure why she had just word vomited all that information. She had never been the most reserved of girls, but she did have a good sense of situational awareness usually. Again, she wondered if she were under some kind of spell to compel her to talk more openly. Not that she could blame him if she was; it was an interrogation after all.

" _Perhaps we should start with something more basic, then,_ " he eventually continued. " _Perhaps who you are and how you arrived inside the Department of Mysteries?_ "

" _You didn't find that out poking around in my head?_ " A brief flicker of surprise and confusion passed across the man's face at Uzume's reply. She assumed he was surprised that she knew he could read minds and confused how she knew that with so little understanding of magic. At least that is what would have caused those expressions if their situations were reversed. She would have asked him who he was, but it would have been moot as she had already seen his reaction to her look of recognition when she had first seen him.

" _While I could have done so,_ " he admitted. " _I find it more telling to hear how a person talks about themselves than have that information filtered through my own lens._ " Surprisingly enough, after her time spent trying to make heads or tails of Kingsley's memories, she understood what he meant. Seeing as everyone's mind worked differently, there must have been a lot of interpretation involved in reading someone else's thoughts.

" _Name's Uzume,_ " she responded after a nod of agreement. There went that eyebrow again. This guy was really good at getting information out of people without saying much. " _Hidaka Uzume._ "

Technically she had no family name, unless you counted 'Number 10' as part of her name. But with her death, she felt her Sekirei number was kind of pointless. Chiho was her sister, as far as she was concerned, and in memory of their former bond she decided to assume her name. Besides, as soon as she was winged by Harry it would change anyway.

" _And how did you arrive in the middle of the Department of Mysteries?_ " Apparently he was not in the mood for stalling. " _Though I must admit your entrance was impressive, but I give it a 6. 9 for impact but only a 3 for style._ "

" _Ha! Impact! Nice._ " So she was a sucker for bad puns. Uzume was a simple girl with simple tastes. She would have kept laughing but from the first guffaw, her broken ribs made their presence known. With all the things magic could do, she was wondered if they could do something to heal broken bones quicker. If they could, would they have healed her? They obviously had not, but she was unsure of the reason.

" _Ugh! That smarts._ " Dumbledore was still looking at her expectantly, so she sighed as lightly as she could before continuing. " _I came from the other side of the Veil of Death._ " She noted that there was no surprise on the man's face at what should have been the most fantastical statement he might have heard in the last decade. Obviously, he already had suspicions of where she had come from, he just wanted to hear what she knew about it. The man was savvy if nothing else; she had to give him that.

" _If you're fishing for answers as to how that happened, I'm afraid you'll be disappointed. That's a question I'd really like answered myself._ " It was true, and her statement drew a thoughtful look from Dumbledore. " _Though how I got to the other side in the first place, I expect is not so different from most people._ "

She figured telling him she had died was safe enough. However, she had no intention of giving this man any information on Sekirei or the Sekirei Plan until she could at least trust him not to go snooping around Japan for information. The last thing the world needed was for Hiroto Minaka to learn of the existence of magic. Talk about a fucking disaster.

There were selfish reasons as well. If someone in the Sekirei plan learned she was alive, MBI would come after her, and she was done with MBI. As far as they were concerned she was dead. Her core was gone so they had no way to track her. It did make her wonder briefly if she had two bodies now though. She shuddered in unease at the thought of being able to visit her own filled grave.

" _How much do you remember of your time on the other side?_ " Now there was a loaded question if she had ever heard one. She wondered what she should tell him. There was little point in talking about the trippy Escher-esque time-loop she had been stuck in first. It was quite personal and really had no bearing on her current situation.

The question was how much to tell him about her conversation with Sirius. Depending on the old man's true sensibilities, the story of her time with the spirit of the perverted man-child would either get him to trust her more or make things a lot worse for her. In the end she decided for a middle ground.

" _I remember standing in a void with nothing around except an archway with a veil of nothingness hanging from it,_ " she began. She decided to leave out how the Veil had stripped her naked. She figured Dumbledore keeling over from a heart attack would not generate much goodwill. " _I wasn't there very long before a man began falling through the curtain._ "

She went on to describe the basics of the conversation between her and Sirius. She still felt like she was divulging more than she should or normally would have, but at least this time she was able to keep a few pieces of information to herself. She distinctly avoided mentioning any interest in Harry prior to Sirius mentioning him in conversation. She was also able to navigate around the parts of the discussion revolving around Sirius' misgivings of Dumbledore.

Of all the things she had learned about Dumbledore from Sirius, the one thing that was definitely true was that the old wizard had an inordinate fascination with Harry Potter. Whether that interest was selfish or altruistic remained to be seen, but letting him know that a strange Japanese woman had come through from the other side of the Veil of Death just for Harry was bound to get her in serious trouble with the old man.

Likewise, having him think she had preconceived notions about his motives and actions, would have been foolhardy. As a politician, she had no doubt Dumbledore was used to receiving criticism on all fronts. He likely would have brushed off Sirius' misgivings or at least taken them in stride. But knowing that this girl, who could literally kill him with a touch while at the same time learn all of his hard earned knowledge and secrets that he - according to Sirius - seemed to covet, had doubts about his goodness would again not go over too well. Especially if he was hoping to use her as a weapon.

" _Just before he moved on, Sirius asked me to help you fight this war._ " Okay, not exactly true, but Harry was fighting this war she would help him do it. She took an assisted sip of water offered to her by the nurse, whose name she still did not know, before continuing. " _I'm still not sure how he knew I would be able to cross back over. Anyway, my impactful entrance back into the world of the living was caused half by panic and half by stupidity. Sirius seemed to think that this Harry would be a pretty big deal in the war effort. Since I just promised the guy I would help y'all fight, it seemed like the Big Deal becoming the Big Dead by running through the Veil of Death might not be a good thing. So I panicked when I caught a glimpse of him running straight towards it._

" _Unfortunately, time apparently moves a lot faster on the other side, or at least it was when I came through. In my panic, I ran full tilt at the archway. Normal fast running speed became super fast rocket booster speed when I crossed over, and WHAM! I'm a crater._ " This simplistic description actually elicited a full-on belly laugh from the wizard. While he was laughing a small sliver of doubt began worming its way through Uzume's brain. " _Um...Harry didn't die, did he?"_

" _Ah, no, Hidaka-san, he did not,_ " he responded after his laughter subsided. It was strange to hear him refer to her as Hidaka, and she almost began regretting the decision to assume the name. The feeling was overwhelmed by the sense of relief, the majority of which she tried to keep off her face. It was ok to show enough to be proud of accomplishing a goal, but not to the point where he thought there was more to her feelings. Luckily, she had quite a bit of experience.

" _However, he did fall through the archway, and he distinctly remembers touching the Veil._ "

Well, shit.

* * *

 **Nozomi - Fastest of the three types of trains used in the Shinkansen**

 **The 'Big Deal' reference is in homage to The Force Awakens which I digitally downloaded and watched about four times this week.**

 **No Pet Peeve this chapter.**


	4. Red Bull Gives You Wings

**AN: Sorry for the late update everyone. To make it up to you, this is the longest chapter I've ever written for anything. Over 8000 words of story. Yay! Hopefully you don't think they suck.**

 **There are four scenes in this chapter. The first two happen prior to chapter 3, and the last two happen directly following the events of chapter 3. This is also our first Harry/Uzume interaction.**

 **Anywho, enough rambling. Y'all want to read the story. So have at it.**

 **DISCLAIMER: See Chapter 1 for general Disclaimer. I do not own Redbull. Redbull and "Redbull Gives You Wings" are registered trademarks of the Redbull Corporation. I make no money off of their usage.**

 _ **Chapter 4: Redbull Gives You Wings**_

 **Department of Mysteries, 18 June 1998, 22:46**

Harry Potter was fairly certain it should be outlawed to be able to feel so many conflicting emotions at the same time. In the span of ten or so seconds he had cycled through shock, despair, rage, desperation, embarrassment, lust, relief, and euphoria. The roller coaster began watching his godfather fall through that strange archway in the center of the room.

The boy had no idea what it actually was, but from the look on Sirius' face, it was nothing good. Harry might not have even known what to feel if he had not seen the look of utter disappointment tinged with resignation on the man's face. The finality in the expression was so complete it shocked Harry to the core. The oddest thing was the flash of arousal he felt as he watched the event, which would have led to a bit of hysteria if the boy were not so certain that the feeling had arisen from something else other than watching his surrogate father bite the big one.

What he saw next, or rather what he did not see, sent Harry into the depths of despair. It was just a curtain standing in the middle of the room. He had circled around it during the fight and seen both sides of the thing. If that were the case, why had Sirius not just fallen through it and come out the backside? But there was nothing. He had clearly seen the black fabric ripple and sway on the side his godfather had fallen through, but the agitation on one side was not mirrored on the other. From Harry's angle, it was still just as placid as it had always looked, and those damnable whispers still seemed as unconcerned as they had since he first heard them.

Pure anger hit him next, though strangely not at Sirius' attacker, but rather at the archway itself. He was certainly angry at Bellatrix Lestrange, but he recognized the spell she had fired at Sirius was not lethal, not that last one at any rate. No his current rage was focused completely on that stupid curtain. He was going to make it give his godfather back from wherever it had taken him. As he made to move toward it, a hand clamped down on his arm.

"He's gone, Harry!" Moony's voice barely registered, and his restraint was not strong enough. With a grunt, Harry desperately broke free and sprinted towards the archway. He vaguely heard cries of alarm and warning all around him. The sounds of battle dimmed, and there was a strange air of anticipation as he neared the inky black curtain. He was about to cross through when time seemed to both slow down and speed up.

Harry had his hand outstretched reaching for the fabric when it suddenly billowed away from him as if reluctant to let him touch it. As it did so, he was hit with a strong wave of lust and embarrassment when he saw perhaps the most beautiful woman he had ever laid eyes on rushing straight towards him. She had long brown hair, some of which was tied up in a ponytail that hung off the left side of her head, the rest framed her face or fell down her back. Or it would have were it not streaming behind her as she ran. Her face was beyond Harry's ability to describe in its beauty, though her warm brown eyes were just stunning. The lust and embarrassment both came from the fact that she was stark naked. Harry could see everything she had to offer, and it was sadly more than his teenage mind had ever thought possible. Not to mention the running she was doing was doing fantastic things to those amazing tits of hers.

As the black fabric of the curtain flowed away from him, it seemed to be attracted to the girl running towards him. The moment it touched her, she began to scream in obvious pain. Harry felt a bit guilty at the thought that flashed through his head then. He was momentarily glad it was her who had touched the thing rather than him. He knew this thought was unworthy, but he could not help it when he saw how much agony she seemed to be experiencing. It also made him sorrowful: _Was this what Sirius felt?_

He watched in fascination, and a not a little bit of disappointment, as the material of the black curtain wrapped itself around the girl, fashioning a tube top and mini-skirt combo. A sexy little number to be sure, but Harry was a seventeen year-old boy and definitely preferred her earlier state of dress. He also noted that there was quite a bit of black fabric left over that seemed to flair out in a set of tendrils shooting out from her back.

The unexpected results of her interaction with the black material startled the girl out of her breakneck pace, and she stumbled a bit as she screamed. It was enough to alter her trajectory to the point she slipped right passed Harry to his right. As she passed him, one of the strange tendrils of black fabric brushed across his face. He expected the same type of pain, but quite the opposite occurred.

Rather scream in agony, Harry almost wanted to laugh. He likely would have had his mind not been awash with so many differing emotions. The moment the tendril caressed his face, it was like a weight he never knew he carried had been lifted from his shoulders. His thoughts were clear, aches in his muscles and joints disappeared, and best of all, that niggling presence at the back of his mind he had been feeling all year was just gone.

With his new clarity of thought, he suddenly realized that all of this interaction with the girl had occurred in the span of time between one footstep and the next. With that knowledge, everything sped up to normal time again quickly, and he stumbled through the archway. Before he had time to realize he was still in the Department of Mysteries and not wherever his godfather had disappeared to - not to mention where the hot naked chick had come from - he was nearly deafened by an enormous booming sound.

Harry fell to his hands and knees with a startled gasp, half in response to the concussive force of whatever the blast had been and half debilitated by emotional whiplash. He was mentally exhausted at this point, yet a new feeling was entering his psyche, one he could put to good use. Determination.

With a quick shake of his hanging head, he attempted to relieve the ringing in his ears before looking up. Everything seemed to have stopped in shock for a moment. Harry noticed a crater in the wall that had definitely not been present before. There was a large dust cloud preventing him seeing the interior, but Harry's determination to find that bitch Bellatrix overrode any curiosity. He barely even spent a moment wondering where the girl he had seen had gone. Seventeen he might be, but he was proud to say he had a pretty good sense of priority. And in this instance, taking the bitch down was the highest priority.

Using the moment of stunned silence, Harry rose to his feet, fighting off the last of the cobwebs and sprinted out the doorway he remembered seeing Bellatrix scurry towards after dispatching Sirius. The pause in hostilities did not last long, and before Harry was even halfway out of the chamber, he heard the sound of spell fire resume. Several seconds and a couple dodged spells later, he slipped through the doorway and down the hall. His single minded pursuit left him blind to the events occurring behind him. The last thing he saw as he rounded the doorframe was Kingsley raising a shield behind Harry to deflect a blasting curse headed his way. He would have to thank the stoic auror later.

* * *

 **Headmaster's Office, Hogwart's School - 19 June 1998 07:34**

Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, headmaster of Hogwart's School of Witchcraft and Wizardry and former Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot and Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards sat down heavily at his desk. The previous evening had not gone at all as he had hoped it might, and there were still loose ends that needed to be tied up.

With a shuddering sigh, the 117 year-old man rested his creaking elbows on the desk in front of him, leaned forward, placed his head in his hands, and proceeded to weep like the broken man he was. As had happened every time his actions, necessary or otherwise, resulted in the loss of life, great wracking sobs wrenched through his body as grief for those who had fallen overtook him. The faces of Sirius Black and Kingsley Shacklebolt swam in his mind's eye. Two souls taken well before their times all because of his mistakes.

Some days, Albus wished he could turn off this sentimentality he seemed to be cursed with. He certainly knew there was a possibility of death in this endeavor, so why could he not be more prepared for the eventuality? But he supposed that was the real difference between him and his enemies. He was always quick to tell allies that remorse separated human beings from monsters, but he had trouble taking his own words to heart.

Grief and guilt swam through his mind, not just for the deaths, but for young Harry as well. Albus had meant to speak with the boy as soon as he returned from the Ministry, which hopefully would not have been too much longer after he sent Harry back to Hogwarts. Unfortunately, with Kingsley's death and the mysterious young woman responsible, there had been many more tasks to complete than anticipated.

He had just returned from depositing the unconscious woman in the infirmary, with strict instructions to Poppy not to touch the strange woman's clothing. It had been a fight nearly as difficult as the battle, which had just ended, to receive custody of the strange girl. Young Amelia had been adamant about chucking the woman in the deepest pit they could find and throwing away the key. It was a most unusual reaction for the normally stolid, by-the-book department head. Perhaps she still held more than professional feelings for the deceased?

Regardless, Albus had been able to leverage Fudge's shock and panic into having him order the girl remanded to his custody, overriding Amelia's objections. He still was not even sure why he had fought so hard to have her under his care. Obviously he had questions for her, but there was something else that urged him on – that demanded he keep this young woman close at hand. He still needed to examine her, seeing as her condition did not seem to be improving, but it would have to wait. Harry must come first, and he should be on his way to Albus' office.

The delay in speaking with Harry made the situation precarious. Albus needed to focus the boy's anger and frustration on him, otherwise Harry might begin to place all of the blame on himself. The headmaster had no intention of letting the boy fall to those demons without a fight. Despite what everyone seemed to think, Albus did not view Harry as his protegé. That was a moniker the old man would not wish on anyone. The number of mistakes he had made over his long life, ones with such dire consequences, were not something to be emulated, but avoided at all costs. His guidance of the boy was in an effort to do just that, though he feared he was failing miserably.

Knowing that Harry would arrive soon, Albus endeavored to quell his sorrow. He knew he would not succeed completely. It was unfortunate, as he wanted Harry to perceive him as the monster. He needed Harry to transfer the blame he was likely currently self-inflicting onto the heartless old manipulator who loved to keep his secrets, secrets that get people killed. With the level of sadness and remorse still evident in Dumbledore's demeanor, the impact of giving Harry the prophecy would unfortunately be diminished somewhat. All too soon, the wards tripped indicating his student was approaching.

"Come in, Harry." Albus would be lying if he said he took no enjoyment in the looks of disbelief all his guests had when he called them in by name just before they had a chance to knock on his office door. It seemed these little pleasures were all he had left these days. The door opened slowly, and Albus took the time to examine the young man. Surprisingly, he did not look nearly as haggard and depressed as Albus thought he would. The set of his shoulders was strong and unbowed. There was definitely grief in eyes, but it was found in equal measure to determination. It had the old man feeling curious.

"How are you, my boy?" he asked as Harry took the chair he offered. He figured starting with a loaded question would get the ball rolling nicely.

"What, no lemon drop, sir?" Harry responded with a raised eyebrow, and what Albus could only interpret as a knowing smirk. Something was seriously amiss with Harry. He was being far more observant than he usually was, especially considering the emotional turmoil that should have been consuming him. Albus had deliberately not offered Harry one of the calming draught-laced candies. The last thing he wanted was a calm and rational Harry Potter. Apparently, it made no difference.

"Alas, I believe this is hardly the time for idle pleasantries," Albus began with a sigh. He decided that a 'wait and see' approach would be best. It was not a method he often employed, but the differences Harry was displaying from what he expected, even in just the few seconds since entering his office, had the headmaster off kilter. Better to test the waters before jumping in. "Our world has changed, literally overnight, and there is much to be done. I apologize for not speaking with you last night, but Auror Shacklebolt's death took –"

"Kingsley's dead?!" Harry sat forward with a start. "What happened? Who did it? He was fine when I left the chamber!" Finally, Albus saw some of the panic and desperation on Harry's face that he expected from the start. Curious that it was over the news of a death other than Sirius'. Yet nearly as quick as it had appeared, the new grief faded back under the determined look that was beginning to unnerve him. Just what was Harry thinking?

"Ah, well as to what exactly happened, I am not quite certain of that myself," he replied truthfully. "I was not present when the act occurred, as you know." He had left the Death Chamber before the fighting was finished to protect Harry, so his knowledge was second-hand. "The report I received from Remus seems too impossible to believe. I wonder, are you aware of what the archway you ran so recklessly towards was?"

"Not entirely, sir," Harry responded hesitantly. "I know that it's a one-way door, though to where, I am not sure. I have an idea, but…" He trailed off with a shuddering shake of his head.

"Indeed, my boy," Albus said with a sigh. "The archway itself is much older than the Ministry building. In fact the Ministry was built on that site in order to protect it. Or rather to protect people from it. The chamber that was built around it is known as the Death Chamber, and the portal was known as the Veil of Death."

"'Was', sir?" Again, Harry's thought process threw Albus for a loop. Here he had basically confirmed that Sirius was dead, and the boy had chosen his word choice to comment on. Perhaps, he thought there was a possibility that his godfather was not dead.

"Quite. Something inexplicable occurred when you tried to chase your godfather into the great beyond," Albus replied calculatedly. Only a brief grimace marred Harry's face at the direct mention of Sirius' fate before it was gone again. Curiouser and curiouser.

"You seem to have a knack for surviving certain death, young man." A rueful smile turned up the corners of the boy's mouth at the comment. "Though, your safe trip across the Veil of Death was not nearly as interesting as what supposedly occurred afterwards. Apparently something, or rather someone, crossed over from the other side at the same time you tried going through."

A flash of recognition lit the boy's eyes along with, of all things, a blush. What had he seen? Albus did not want the meeting to get off track, he needed to reveal the prophecy to Harry. But with the strange girl from beyond the Veil currently unconscious in the infirmary, his natural curiosity would not let him allow this opportunity for information to pass.

"You seem to know something about this, Harry. Perhaps you have some insight?" He watched Harry debate with himself, as if he thought his perspective would not be of value. Internally, Albus sighed. It was another of his mistakes rearing its ugly head. As different as Harry seemed today from what he expected, some things were so ingrained, they could never be washed from his personality, at least not overnight. _Damn Dursleys._

"When I was about to...cross over, I guess," he began after seeing Albus' encouraging expression. "It was like time slowed down. The Veil seemed to billow away from me for some reason, and I guess I saw beyond it?"

"You saw into the realm of the dead?" The old man could not decide whether he should feel awed or afraid for the boy's sanity. Seeing death was not something to take lightly. This was different than seeing someone die. It was seeing beyond life itself.

"I don't know, maybe? I wasn't really focused on the surroundings." The blush returned to his cheeks with much more force. "I, uh, I saw this girl. She was running toward me – reaching for me. She was the most beautiful thing I've ever seen." Harry's eyes had glazed over and a dreamy smile took over his visage.

 _Ah, to be young again_ , Albus thought with amusement. And he certainly could not blame the boy. Murderess or not, the girl was definitely a thing of beauty. Harry caught himself drifting off with an embarrassed start before continuing.

"She touched the Veil before she reached me." He shuddered in remembrance. "It was horrible, sir. She was in so much pain; screaming like she wanted to die. I remember thinking I was glad I hadn't actually touched it. The Veil seemed to wrap around her, and the pain made her stumble. She fell right passed me. One of the pieces of the Veil did hit me then –"

Albus stood up violently; his chair clattering to the floor behind him as it tipped over. In movements quicker than his age would normally allow, he rounded his desk and appeared before Harry. Reaching out, he gripped Harry's shoulders more roughly than he probably should have.

"She touched you with the Veil?!" He was desperate; this may have been the missing piece. It could explain Harry's odd sense of calm this morning. "Where?"

"In the Death Chamber –" The shock on Harry's face at his headmaster's sudden actions bled into his voice.

"No! Where on _you_ did the Veil hit?!" If it touched anywhere else, it was likely merely coincidence that he survived, but there was the spark in Albus now. The rekindling of a desperate hope, one he had long since buried. But maybe…

"I don't - Sir, wh-"

"Where, Harry!"

"M-my face, sir," he stuttered. "Across my eyes and forehead." Albus' eyes moved from the boy's to the famous scar as he tried to pierce its depths with his sight alone. Quick as a whip, he had his wand in his hand, and ignoring the boy's strangled yelp of fear, he was casting all the diagnostic spells he could.

Gone. It was gone. There was no magic, dark or otherwise, residing behind that cursed blemish. Unfortunately, his mother's protection seemed to be gone as well, but Albus would not look this gift horse in the mouth. He had searched for so long, tried every avenue his considerable political clout had opened for him. Nowhere had he found a method other than death to remove that stain. No spells, no rituals - light, dark, human or demi-human - had been uncovered to remove a Horcrux from its vessel without utter destruction occurring.

And yet, here Harry was, free of the taint that had held him back and formed the basis of his life since the age of one. How could Albus have been so shortsighted? Could he have done this before; just taken the boy to the Death Chamber and held his head against the Veil for a moment? Somehow, he did not think the answer was that simple. The girl must have something to do with it. He certainly had quite a few more questions to ask her now.

With a laugh bordering on the hysterical and a lightness in his heart, Albus moved back from Harry and back around to his side of the desk. The thoroughly confused look on the boy's face was worth another chuckle. It still was not time to tell the young man of Horcruxes, but he still needed to understand the prophecy.

A twinge of regret filtered through Dumbledore's euphoria. If only this had happened sooner. He would need to train Harry now; with the soul fragment gone as well as his mother's protection, he was vulnerable. He only hoped it was not too late. Perhaps...well it all depended on her.

* * *

 **Hogwart's Infirmary, 19 June 1998 10:28**

Shocked was not nearly a strong enough term for what Uzume was feeling at the moment. Surprisingly, that shock was not accompanied by horror, but rather by elation and no small amount of relief.

" _Y-you mean, I can use my veils without killing people? Thank Kami-sama_ ," she exclaimed once she had the ability to speak again. She had been so worried that she was now useless as anything other than a killing machine. She noticed a look of confusion followed by a frown on Dumbledore's face causing a tendril of dread to creep up her spine.

" _Use your veils? I am not sure I understand._ " She was taken aback for a moment at this question. Her conversation with Sirius had not delved too deeply into the mechanics of magic, but from what she had seen so far, which was still extremely limited, there was no real limit to the abilities a magic wielder could perform beyond their own imagination. She supposed that to them, a Sekirei's singular ability would seem quite odd and very limiting. She had a lot of learning to do about this new environment. She still wondered if she could actually learn magic.

" _Ah, right,_ " Uzume began as she thought of a way to describe her power without revealing what she was. " _I have a, hmm... I suppose you might say a special ability._ "

At his curious look she decided to give a small demonstration. She felt her power flow through the Veil, which she had not realized until this moment had seemingly shrunk in on itself. As she flooded it with her ability, it expanded into its four tendrils once again, and they seemed to float around her like angry scorpion tails ready to strike. Dumbledore seemed to think the same thing as he stepped back sharply, eyes narrowing. His wand materialized in his hand quicker than Uzume could follow, though he fired no spell. He had quick reaction time but was not reactionary, for which she was thankful. To ease some of the tension, she slowly moved the veils to her bedside table where the glass of water the nurse had been feeding her sat. Wrapping one of the lengths of fabric around it, she brought it to her mouth to take a sip.

For the first time since arriving back in the world of the living, her head was clear enough to think properly and the fact that her veils were now inky black finally registered. She knew she was aware of it somewhere in the back of her mind. It was the Veil of Death, after all. But she had yet to actually take stock of it. On the whole, she had no complaints. Everyone looks good in black. White was a bit more selective in determining who could make it look good. Black had lower standards.

Dumbledore seemed to realize she meant no harm, and lowered his wand. The look of apprehension was replaced by curiosity. It was the look of a man discovering something new when he thought there was little left he did not already know. Uzume thought he almost looked giddy.

" _Fascinating,_ " he whispered. " _How does such a thing occur?_ " He leaned forward, adjusting his half-moon spectacles, to peer curiously at the closest veil. She noted that despite his apparent interest, he still kept a healthy distance.

" _I guess I've never really thought about it in detail before,_ " she pondered his question. " _I've always been able to do it. I guess I'm able to manipulate fabric by infusing it with my p- er, my magic._ "

" _Any fabric?_ " His eyebrow raised a bit skeptically.

" _Hmm...so far as I know, yes._ "

" _So you are not limited to using the Veil of Death?_ " he queried. " _Could you remove it?_ "

" _Who knew the vaunted Headmaster was into S &M? You have me all tied up, and now you want me naked? You could at least buy me a drink first,_" she teased with a saucy wink. She had to hand it to the old man; he barely blinked before conjuring a riding crop and slapping it into his opposite palm with mock lasciviousness. " _Damn, old man. You're good._ "

He acknowledged her compliment with a flagrant bow, flourishing the riding crop. As he straightened the crop poofed out of existence and his face was once again serious – asking the question again silently.

" _I would assume so,_ " she responded, " _I never had a problem with my last set._ _I'll try if you'll give me some privacy._ " He seemed about to ask a question, possibly about her comment regarding her previous set of veils, but apparently thought better of it. He merely inclined his head and turned around. He grabbed the curtain and pulled it shut behind him.

When her view of the rest of the infirmary was fully obscured, she once again flowed her power through the Veil and willed it to unwrap from her body as she had her white veils so many times before. However, rather than pool off her body and fold nicely as it should have, the black material began shrinking. First, the active tendrils shrank, sinking into a spot somewhere on her back. She realized this must be the dormant state they had been in while she was unconscious. The process continued with the miniskirt and panties portion, the fabric slithering around her abdomen and trailing up her back until it merged with the tube top. It unwrapped fully, leaving her naked again.

As it unraveled from her breasts, she was able to feel it moving up towards her shoulder blades, and finally sinking into her skin directly where her Sekirei crest would have been. But that should have been impossible. Her crest was tied directly to the Sekirei core, which should have been gone. The limiters were supposed to be off. She began to worry that she would be trackable again, but she decided jumping to conclusions would be premature.

" _Headmaster, could you send the nurse in here?_ " She needed to know if there was anything on her back, and as she was strapped to the bed, she would not be getting to a mirror any time soon.

" _Is everything alright?_ "

" _Yes, I just need her to check something for me._ "

" _Very well,_ " he acquiesced. " _I will retrieve her._ "

Uzume heard the sound of him walking off, presumably to the nurse's office. While she waited, she decided to see if she could still work her magic, so to speak, on the bed sheets. With her right hand, she grasped what she could of the sheet beneath her. She began to channel her power into the cloth, but rather than immediately respond to her will, it began turning turning the same inky black as the Veil of Death. The blackness began under her fingertips and spread slowly across the sheet.

Shocked, she quickly cut off the flow of her power, hoping to stop the spread. Unfortunately, even with her power gone, the sheet continued to change, the blackness spreading faster until the entire thing was the same as the Veil of Death. Well, that certainly answered at least one of Dumbledore's questions. No, she could no longer use veils other than the Veil of Death. As if to confirm her conclusion, the bed sheet-turned-Veil of Death began shrinking and was absorbed into her body at the same spot the previous material has disappeared to.

That left her lying bare on a bare mattress when the nurse arrived, flinging the curtain open to the view of the rest of the infirmary, which now contained a new person. She would have been annoyed at the nurse - whose name she _still_ did not know - but she had no room in her head for such a thought as everything else was driven away by the sharp spike of overwhelming arousal that overtook her.

Her breath caught in her throat as her face flushed. After a moment, her breathing came again, hard and fast, her breasts heaving with each intake of what seemed to be super heated air. Her nipples became chips of diamond while her pussy began gushing. Uzume had no idea why he was here, but she really could care less in the face of her need for him.

She had wanted to keep from exposing herself to Dumbledore before because she did not really trust him, and he was old. The sight of her nude body might have been too much for the codger, and whether he was trustworthy or not, she had no desire to see him keel over from a heart attack. Now, he could go fuck himself for all she cared.

The bed creaked and groaned almost as loudly as her moans of desire as she tried desperately to break the bonds on her wrists and ankles. She needed to get to Harry, and she would be damned if a few bits of metal, leather, and wood would keep her away. She felt the shackles digging into her skin – not enough to break through it, but enough to be painful. It only served to enhance her desire, causing her to moan even louder and struggle more.

As the bonds or the bed frame began to give way - she was not sure which - Uzume's eyes caught the nurse drawing her wand out. Instinctively, The veil expanded from where it had laid dormant inside of her. Despite her single mindedness in getting to Harry, she at least had the presence of mind to only defend rather than attack. She still did not understand these new aspects of her power, and she had no wish to have another death on her hands.

She also noticed the Veil made no move to cover her nakedness as it expanded. Maybe her arousal subconsciously left her bare and ready for action, or maybe the Veil had a mind of its own and did not want to get itself covered in her twat water.

Perhaps the sight of the dreaded material springing up in front of her scared the nurse, but Uzume never felt a spell hit the material. She remembered enough to realize that spells that hit the Veil transferred small amounts of information to her, but none came. It was a bit of a shame; she might have finally learned the woman's name.

Before she could contemplate on it further, she finally heard the wood of the bed frame crack from her strain. She felt a small sense of triumph add to her arousal before noticing Dumbledore's wand trained on her. Again, she brought the Veil around in front of her, trusting it to protect her. As she did, her eyes turned again to Harry's face and locked eyes with him. He seemed both embarrassed and aroused at the sight of her, and her heart soared at the idea. There was no fear in his eyes, unlike the nurse and Dumbledore. Somehow, he seemed to know that her struggles to get to him were not to cause him harm. Yet he also made no move to come closer.

"Harry…" she moaned, finally breaking the bed and freeing her right hand. She reached out desperately towards her new Ashikabi seeing the light of recognition fill his eyes. He took a hesitant step forward, still looking slightly unsure.

She saw a flash of red to Harry's right and assumed Dumbledore was not so skittish as the nurse - actually firing a spell at her. The spell flash bathed Harry in a warm glow for a brief moment as it passed him, making him that much more desireable. She whimpered in desperation as her juices flowed more heavily. She felt the spell hit her veil, the information transfer telling her it was another of those stunning spells she remembered from the previous night. With her mind clearer since Kingsley's memories had been extracted, there was no overwhelming strain from the influx, just the knowledge.

Before she could process fully what was happening, another flash of red filled her vision, this time from within the Veil barrier. She barely had time to be shocked before the spell hit her. Whether it was her Sekirei nature or that the Veil had diminished some of its power, the spell did not knock her out as it was supposed to. It felt more like she had been hit on the head enough to see stars but not fall unconscious. Harry's face swam in front of her as she tried to shake of the effects.

How the hell had that spell gotten through? None of the ones the previous evening had, and most of them had more power behind them. Her head cleared a bit, enough to see the look of dismay on Harry's face before another stunner miraculously passed right through the Veil. She heard him say one word before the spell performed its intended task and darkness claimed her.

"Uzume…"

* * *

 **Hogwart's Infirmary, 19 June 1998 10:41**

"Harry! Stop!" The command was sharp and desperate. With Harry's current feelings toward his headmaster, he was disinclined comply. He may have been thinking more clearly than he could ever remember - not letting his emotions overwhelm him as had been his modus operandi for several years - but he was still extremely angry with the old man at the moment.

It had only been an hour or so since learning the contents of the prophecy, which surprisingly did not bother him as much as it might once have. What infuriated him was not even the apparent need Dumbledore felt to keep such information from him. Rather it was that he understood why, and even agreed with the reasons for the secrecy, despite the horrific ramifications.

Harry was well aware he could not have dealt with the prophecy as he was previously. Before whatever Uzume had done to him last night, his mind would not have been able to handle the information in any other way than panic and fear. Those heightened emotions would have led to exactly what Dumbledore feared. Voldemort would have been able to walk right into his mind and pluck out the information at will.

As such, a good deal of Harry's frustration was aimed at himself. But Dumbledore was still hiding something, and whether the old man had good reasons or not, these secrets tended to make Harry's friends end up maimed or dead. He had seemed beyond elated after Harry described his interaction with Uzume as she crossed over from behind the Veil of Death. The reaction was thoroughly incommensurate with the weak explanation he gave of merely being happy that he was not hurt.

He had regressed to a pre-Uzume state and brooded for a while after leaving the Headmaster's office. Despite being angry, thoughts of the beautiful woman he had exchanged only a glance and a caress of fabric with kept intruding. The thoughts and images were almost insistent. Like they had a mind of their own and until he satisfied their curiosity, they would never leave him alone. It was the first clue that these impressions were not fully natural.

Having succumbed to mind manipulations so recently to such disastrous effect, Harry had attempted to use his meagre knowledge of occlumency to sort out these intrusions. To his surprise, he had very little trouble clearing his mind. Well, clearing it of everything except thoughts of the gorgeous brunette. He saw images of her in situations he could barely comprehend. Scenes where the cloth wrapped around her had been white instead of the inky black of the Veil of Death; visions of her laughing and having fun with a group of other amazingly stunning women and couple of young men; memories of her kissing another girl who seemed confined to a hospital bed.

When he realized that he was thinking of her by a name he was sure he had never heard but was doubly certain was hers, he decided he needed to talk to someone about them. Most of his close friends were in the infirmary, so he had decided to venture into Pomfrey's evil lair. Even if his friends were still unconscious, perhaps the overbearing nurse would be able to steer him in the right direction. He had stopped short at that thought. He really had changed overnight if he was thinking of going to that harpy for advice.

Now, here he was in the hospital wing, having just watched a once again nude Uzume trying to break free of the shackles restraining her to her hospital bed to get to him. The smell of her arousal had hit him like a full speed lorry almost immediately after Pomfrey had so rudely ripped the curtain around her bed back in annoyance. That woman had the worst bedside manner.

He had been slightly embarrassed at once again catching her in the nude. He had no idea she was even here at Hogwarts. After what Dumbledore said she had done to Kingsley, Harry figured she would be in Ministry custody. Honestly he thought he would likely never see her again, a prospect that filled him with more sadness than he thought their brief interaction warranted. Yet another reason he was here seeking advice.

The evil one and the headmaster, had both reacted out of fear, what with Uzume flailing the Veil of Death around. Harry supposed he could understand, but the alluring sight of her bare form and the overpowering scent of her arousal - the cry of his name making him realize it was for him - engendered no wariness from him. On the contrary, combined with the thoughts and visions that had been plaguing him - not just for the last hour but most of the night and early morning as well - her desperate need of him drew Harry to be close to her.

Before he could reach her, two of Dumbledore's stunners had managed to pass through Uzume's protective barrier of Veil-cloth and she was knocked unconscious.

"Uzume!" he called out as he watched her collapse back on the bed, the Veil falling slack and retracting back towards her. He strode confidently toward her, ignoring the headmaster's plea and watching the black fabric retreat before him. He noticed it was being sucked into Uzume's back. At least he assumed so as she was lying on it at the moment. Despite her nakedness and the lingering scent of her desire, Harry's eyes were fixed on the woman's face – her delicate features becoming ingrained as some of his favorite sights.

The Veil had completely retreated by the time he reached her bedside. The protests behind him had died down, or he had blocked them out. All that was important was the woman in front of him. In the back of his mind, a small voice was screaming at him that there was something off about this situation – something supernatural about his attachment to Uzume. But there were no flares from his danger senses, so just because the pull he felt towards this woman might be magical in nature did not mean it was a bad thing.

As his gaze roamed her face, Harry's eyes fell on her slightly parted lips. They were slightly moist from her unconsciously licking them repeatedly during her struggle to free herself. The wetness left a shine, which drew the eye. His desire to kiss this young woman skyrocketed, but he was still aware enough of himself to hold back from stealing a kiss from a girl who could not protest.

With movements slowed by his single-minded devotion to memorizing Uzume's face, Harry drew his wand from the wrist holster Moony had bought him for Christmas. He fumbled with it, still not completely used to the release mechanism. It distracted him from his art appreciation long enough to hear Dumbledore speaking from behind him.

"Harry, please stop," he pleaded. "We have no idea what this woman is capable of. I've spoken with her some, and she seems genuine, but please do not act in haste. It is obvious she has you enthralled –"

"Looked the other way 'round to me, Albus," Madame Pomfrey interjected with a hint of amusement. It was enough to break Harry away from Uzume's face. He stared at the nurse incredulously. The crone had a sense of humor? It defied his reality. He shook off the creepy feeling the woman's joke sent down his spine and turned over his shoulder to look at Dumbledore.

"Enthralled?" he questioned. "I'm pretty sure Uzume's not Veela."

"She is not," the headmaster replied. "But tell me, how is it you know her name? Based on yours and her recounts, neither of you had a chance to ever speak to one another. Likewise, neither of you are skilled in the mind arts, and I did not know her name when we spoke of her earlier this morning. This knowledge and your fascination with her is not natural, Harry. Also, do not forget that Kingsley is dead by her hand."

"I know it isn't natural," Harry replied with some annoyance. "That's why I came down here. I've been having weird thoughts, visions, and what seem like memories of her. When I realized I was referring to her by name, I knew something really strange was going on. It's weird, but I don't feel anything wrong about it, either."

"That is exactly why this is so dangerous, Harry." He had to concede, the old man may have a point. Harry had learned a valuable lesson from Voldemort's manipulative visions. At least from the ultimate result of them. His newfound wariness of mental manipulation had brought him here in the first place. Despite it all, there was something different about the effect that Uzume had on him. It did not feel manipulative or evil, in fact the only thing dangerous about it in Harry's mind was that it distracted him from other threats that may be around him. Perhaps that was enough? Shaking his head, Harry turned away from Dumbledore, returning his gaze to Uzume.

"Madam Pomfrey, could you find a sheet to cover her up?" he asked politely. It was never a good idea to rile the beast. Though why the girl was lying here naked strapped to a bare mattress, Harry could not fathom a reason. The healer blinked in confusion for a moment before a dark look came over her face. So much for not tickling the sleeping dragon.

"She had one, not my fault she managed to vanish it along with her clothes," she grumbled as she shuffled off to the back room. Harry was sure the woman meant well but thought she would do much better in a more controlled environment. Like a psych ward. As a patient.

He lowered his gaze to look at Uzume's face and was once again overtaken with the urge to kiss her. Her lips had dried a bit during the short conversation, but they were no less kissable. His wand still in hand, he raised it with and 'ennervate' on the tip of his tongue.

"Harry -"

"I just want to talk to her," Harry interrupted whatever objection Dumbledore was about to throw out.

"How, Harry? She speaks little to no English." He raised a thoughtful eyebrow at this information. He supposed she did look Asian, though with a much more mild shade of brown than the black he was used to from the few people of Asian descent he knew. It was curious as in the few memories or visions he had seen, he had always been able to understand her. Maybe he was just able to understand the context of what was happening? It was difficult to say, but somehow he did not think he would have much trouble communicating with Uzume.

"Then it's a good thing you're here to translate for us," he replied. Madame Pomfrey returned then with a blanket, which she draped over Uzume fussily.

Harry had an urge to take the girl's hand before he woke her up. Whenever he was stuck in the hospital wing, he enjoyed waking up with someone's hand in his. Usually it was Hermione, but there had been others during his few brief flings over the last couple years.

Reaching under the blanket, Harry located her freed hand. The moment he touched it, he was overcome by the same sense of euphoria he had experienced when the Veil had slid across his face the previous night. He felt himself harden instantaneously, though the feeling was not wholly sexual in nature. His entire being felt light, and his mind was instantly clear. There was no longer an unnatural urge drawing him toward Uzume. He still wanted the same things as before: to be near her, to kiss her, to claim her as his own. But the feelings were now his own and not the result of some external force.

" _Ennervate_ ," he intoned. He watched her eyes flutter as she became aware once again. She must have felt his hand in hers because her brown eyes snapped open, meeting his green ones. The moment they locked eyes, her hand tightened fiercely around his as her whole body began to shudder. He heard his knuckles popping as she squeezed but barely noticed the sensation as her pheromones once again smacked into his consciousness. He thought he was aroused before, but now it was taking every ounce of his self-control not to rip his own clothes off and ravage this vision of lust and beauty before him.

"A-ashikabi-sama," she stuttered out, breathlessly hungry for him. Before he knew what was happening she raised their entwined hands up to his chest, and using her fingertips, she grabbed his shirt. With surprising strength, she wrenched him forward as she leaned up and smashed their lips together.

It was the most passionate and sensual kiss he had ever experienced, and after snogging Fleur, that was saying something. Like the euphoric sensation her touch gave him, the kiss was not purely a physical experience. He felt his magic going haywire. It flowed erratically through and around him as it entwined with Uzume's. He felt her power moulding itself to fit his magic, and he knew this was no ordinary kiss. As if the flair of six wings of black light erupting from her back was not clue enough.

Harry felt her tongue brush against his lips and he parted them to allow her entrance. The simple if sensual kiss instantly became a lustful snog, their tongues pressing against and writhing around each other: not looking for dominance but sharing in the dance of passion. More and more of their magic melded together, until Harry could feel no separation between the two wells of power.

When there was no longer a discernable distinction between the magicks of Harry Potter and Uzume Hidaka, the wings behind Uzume began to recede. Though he was loathe to do so, Harry began toning down the kiss in preparation to end it. Now that the light and magic show had ended, his awareness that they were not alone was taking precedence.

He eventually pulled back regretfully to see Uzume looking up at him with shining eyes and the most beatific smile he had ever seen. She released his shirt and pulled his hand down over her heart. He could feel her heartbeat through the softness of her breast as she began reciting a prayer of sorts. She spoke in Japanese, Harry knew, but he had no trouble understanding every word of it.

" _By the Veil of the Beyond, my Ashikabi's fears will be put to rest._ "

* * *

 **AN: Yes I changed both Uzume's wings and her Norito. Her power is new and different enough and she no longer has her crest or core (that we know of) so things change. Plus her canon norito was for Chiho.**

 **Anywho, see you guys next time!**


	5. Gotta Find my Purpose

**AN: Sorry about the wait, but this chapter is really important, and I wanted to write it as best as I could. Gonna keep this short because I want you to read it rather than just skip it like I usually do with ANs.**

 ***Please, please, please don't jump to conclusions or make the same assumptions about certain events as some of my characters might.***

 **Disclaimer:** **See Chapter 1. _Mass Effect_ is the property of BioWare and EA.**

 _ **Chapter 5: Gotta Find my Purpose**_

Poppy Pomfrey had seen many things come and go through her infirmary over the many years she spent as its proprietor. Contrary to popular thought, being the school nurse was not a cushy job. It was inevitable that a school dedicated to teaching inexperienced magicians the ways of sorcery would generate some of the world's strangest, if not most dire, medical conditions.

She recalled a passage from a recent muggle medical text that described veterinarians and pediatricians as the only true remaining diagnosticians because their patients were not sufficiently able to tell them where it hurt. Unfortunately, she was often in the same predicament – not necessarily because her patients were uncommunicative, but rather they often had no idea exactly how they had managed their current predicament. Usually because no one had ever managed to do whatever they had done with magic before. Despite being a healer she had more publications in journals of new magic than in medical periodicals.

Yet despite all her years of experience and impressive credulity, Poppy found herself stunned speechless by what she was currently witnessing. She had been irritated all morning since the strange woman had woken up. Well, to be honest, she had been irritated since the first students had been brought back from the ministry late in the evening. She had finally had an empty infirmary and time to work on her latest paper on using switching spells to remove poisons from the blood stream. It would be controversial and put her on the map, so to speak, but she had been delayed again and again. Yet here was another distraction.

She had finally gotten the Granger girl stabilized at around 4 in the morning and was exhausted, when Albus had shown up with the tramp. Oh, Poppy knew she was being unfair. There was no real reason to believe the overdeveloped woman in the trashy getup was actually a slut. Just a murderess. Then she had woken up and had the audacity to not even speak English.

The lack of sleep combined with the frustration of the interruptions left the healer feeling rather cantankerous. Thus, when the Headmaster mentioned that the woman was asking for her, she felt no need whatsoever to show her any consideration. Harry Potter had wandered in a few minutes prior and she had been discussing the conditions of his friends with him, with extreme admonitions thrown in from time to time. Honestly, the most shocking event of the morning up to that point had been the fact that Harry was not one of her patients. That boy had the worst luck, and for him to come out of the situation physically unscathed was miraculous.

She had turned away from Harry with irritation and stalked over to the curtained off bed the Japanese woman was behind. She had missed Albus leaving her alone and drawing the curtains again, but there he was standing outside the perimeter telling her the girl wanted to see her. In her frustration, she had ripped back the curtain, inadvertently exposing the completely naked bombshell to the room. Why the hell was the slut naked? How did she manage that anyway? Her hands were still bound.

The girl seemed sufficiently shocked by the sudden exposure, but her demeanor had shifted so dramatically as soon as her gaze fell on young Harry. Her eyes had clouded over, and much to Poppy's dismay she had begun leaking vaginal juices all over the somehow bare mattress. Her anger spiked at that. She had no room in the budget to buy new mattresses for the beds. Her wand whipped up as fast as she could muster to fire a protection charm under the woman. Maybe if it she caught it early enough a simple scourgify would be enough to clean it up. The problem was that sexual secretions, even from muggles, were so laden with raw magic that they were nearly impossible to clean with refined magic from a wand.

Unfortunately, her efforts had been thwarted when that strange black cloth the girl had been wearing - which Albus had been adamant that Poppy not touch for any reason - had appeared from apparently nowhere and rose up to block her spell. Worse, she could see the girl struggling so strongly against her bonds that the wood of the bed began creaking in protest until it finally broke. Was this damn woman going to destroy her whole ward?

Finally Albus had managed to stun the girl, despite the strange fabric still shielding her. Things had really started going pear shaped at that point, and of course, it was all because of the Potter boy. Three generations in and they were all the same. She had gone to school with Fleamont, who despite the unfortunate name had been a popularity and trouble magnet. She remembered thinking it was charming at the time. Then she had become the school healer and had to deal with James and his antics from the other side of the desk. Most of those papers she had published were the result of dealing with James' pranks gone wrong, or right if you asked him. And now she had Harry, who to his credit was rarely the instigator of trouble. It just seemed to follow him around.

Harry had begun to approach the unconscious woman, much to the Headmaster's dismay, spouting something about having unexplained dreams and thoughts of her. He even had the gall to ask Poppy to get a new sheet to cover the woman. Had the tart not ruined enough of her supplies as it was? Despite her ire, the request was reasonable, and frankly she really did not want the floozy bare to the world. What if some unsuspecting student walked in and saw her? So she had bustled off and grabbed the first thing she found, a roughspun blanket from the sofa in her office. She covered the girl and proceeded to witness the most shocking event of her life.

So now here she was, watching the formation of what she could only describe as an honest-to-merlin soul bond.* The concept had only been theoretical; no one thought the conditions could ever be met. According to Lady Flamel's theory, for a soul bond to form, the two people would need to essentially already have the same soul; the word impossible was often considered an understatement.

Most people had no idea the theory even existed, seeing as there was no reason to teach it over the course of normal schooling in the wizarding world. Poppy only knew it because it was mentioned briefly in the course of study on love manipulation in Healing School. A brief glance at the Headmaster's understanding albeit gobsmacked expression let her know he was also well aware of what was happening.

She had no idea what the strange black wings were, but the swirling wisps of raw power and the molding and meshing of the two magical cores was more than consistent with the proposed action of a bond formation. Something unexpected was the explosion of raw sexual energy the moment the kiss was initiated. If she was honest with herself, a good deal of Poppy's shock derived from the sudden spike of her own arousal – arousal she had not felt in many years, she had almost forgotten what it felt like.

She was overcome with a desperate hope that the effects were only short range, yet knew she could never be so lucky. A small groan - and she would forever maintain that it was a groan, not a moan - escaped her lips at the thought of all the morning after charms she would need to be performing in the next few hours. With the way she was feeling, it was inevitable the students with their spiked hormones would be much worse. Few of them would be likely to stop to think about a contraceptive charm before they began to rut.

Unfortunately for Poppy, the effects were much more widespread and world shattering than she could ever have imagined.

* * *

Sunlight streamed through the open window, a gentle breeze wafting the cheap curtains making light and shadow dance across the bedroom. The tendrils of air shifted across the room towards its only occupant currently sprawled haphazardly across the bed. The combination of the flickering sunshine and the soft tug of the wind on the small hairs at the back of her neck served to elicit a quiet groan from the young woman.

Muttering various expletives, Nymphadora Tonks rolled over onto her back, arms and legs splaying out like she was making a snow angel. The sheets beneath her were tousled and damp with sweat. She had not had the wherewithal to do much more than strip off her outer robes before she fell into bed after the events of the previous night. The loss of both her cousin and one of her mentors during the fiasco at the ministry took a heavy toll on the young auror.

Her sleep had been plagued with visions of the fight. She had been busy dueling Malfoy and Rookwood when Sirius fell through the Veil. He was gone, and she had not even realized it. There was nothing she could have done to prevent his fate, but she still felt the guilt gnawing at her.

Likewise, nothing she could have done would have saved Kingsley, but it was different. She had been fully aware and watching as his life was snuffed out. Worse, her inexperience had left her stunned for several seconds before she could react. She was frozen, just staring at the senior auror's unblinking eyes staring up out of his dark, motionless face. Luckily, the fighting had ended so her moment of stupefaction did not act in her detriment except to highlight how much further she still had to go in her training. The strange woman responsible was unconscious from a half-dozen stunners before she had even been able to raise her wand.

With a guilt-filled sigh, Tonks passed her hand wearily over her face, stopping to rub her sleepy eyes with a thumb and forefinger. She slapped the arm against the bed and stared disconsolately up at the ceiling for a moment. With a grunt, she sat up slowly, swinging her legs over the side. Still groggy, she gently slapped herself in the face to help clear some of the cobwebs. Placing her hands on her knees, she levered herself up with a creaking groan.

As was usual, she felt slightly off balance when she woke up from a night of exhausted sleep. It was her indicator that her form had shifted in the night as her magic was forced to relax. She had always hoped that after years of keeping her 'common' form - the one that all her friends and family knew she preferred - it would take precedence as her 'true' form. Unfortunately, it never worked. Whenever she had to relax completely she would always revert to her base form.

She stumbled across the room to the full length mirror on the inside of her wardrobe. Most people thought she hated her true form, despite next to no one ever having seen it. Some thought she looked like her mother and and cousin and wanted to disassociate herself from them, or that she was ugly or had bad complexion. However, they were all wrong. She actually looked very little like her mother. There was a bit in the set of her jaw and the grey eyes that came from her Black lineage, but most of her looks actually came from her father.

The truth was Tonks loved her base form. She thought she was absolutely beautiful, not because she was vain, but because she looked so much like her grandmother. Aside from the grey eyes and more streamlined jaw, she was the spitting image of the most wonderful woman in the world. High but still human looking cheekbones and a thin, gently-sloped nose framed her almond shaped eyes. The color might be from the Blacks, but the shape was all Tonks. The classically beautiful face was framed by a wealth of burnished copper falling in gentle curls to the middle of her back.

One of the reasons she never wore this form outside her private time, was that her body was extremely voluptuous. She really had no idea where the tits that were now spilling out of her too small sports bra had come from. Both the Black and Tonks women had been much slimmer of figure. Not that Nymphadora was fat in any way. As an auror, it was imperative that she keep her fitness up, but her base form just had big breasts and rather wide hips. She thought she looked like pin-up girl from the 50's or 60's, certainly nothing to be ashamed of.

When she was younger, she rarely stayed in one form for very long, mostly due to fascination with her ability. As she got older and hit puberty, she fell prey to the curse of many a young girl who developed quickly. She felt awkward and ashamed of her more womanly body, and all she wanted was to be the same as the other girls. Having the ability to do just that, at least outwardly, she developed her common form and adopted it as normal just before she started Hogwarts.

As she progressed through school and became more comfortable with her figure she thought it would be ok to show herself as she truly was. But that had been a disaster. She had walked through Hogwarts for all of one day in her base form at the beginning of her sixth year, before deciding to shut it away for good, at least in public. No one had believed her when she said it was how she looked for real. The boys were certainly appreciative, too appreciative. But the girls, her best friends included, thought she was trying to hedge the competition by making herself beautiful. It had destroyed several friendships, and caused resentment in others that took years to mend.

When she had decided on becoming an auror she was doubly glad for her slim and sleek common form. Not only was it easier to move and less conspicuous, but any scars she received, especially magical ones, would only affect her common form. It was a little known fact about metamorphs that physical effects from external magic only affected the form they occurred upon. At least cosmetically. On the flipside of that coin, if it was a permanent scar, like Harry's or Mad Eye's, she would not be able to remove them from whatever form they were on. By never using her true form, she protected it from the scars and blemishes that were the inevitable consequences of her profession.

There was also a mental component to the form whose origins still escaped her. Whenever she was in this form, she actually liked her name. She felt Nymphadora fit the vision she was seeing in her wardrobe mirror at the moment. It was so strange; she looked more like a Tonks in this form than any other she used, but she felt more comfortable with the Black moniker while she was in it.

With another sigh, she reached out a hand to gently touch the mirror as she prepared to seal herself away again. Before she could affect the change into her common form, a wave of raw magic swept through her apartment. As it passed through her, Nymphadora shuddered and dropped to her knees. Her knickers were instantly soaked as the magic and lust drowned her in their intensity. She had little time to think as she reached her peak and came more intensely than she could ever remember. It was the first orgasm not of her own making she had ever experienced as herself, and damn did she want more despite knowing nothing of where the feeling had come from.

As quickly as the feeling had come, it was gone again leaving her a soaking mess on the floor in front of her wardrobe. Taking a moment to catch her breath, she eventually managed to get back onto shaky feet. With the intense pleasure subsiding, she realized she really needed to investigate what had just happened. Quickly, she called on her magic while facing the mirror to change her form. Nothing happened.

* * *

The loud click-clack of angry heels echoed through the corridor deep in the warrens of the London branch of Gringotts Bank. The look of fury gracing the beautiful face of the owner of said heels was enough for even the fiercest goblin warrior to alter their intended path in order to avoid any misplaced wrath. After all, passionfyre was just as damaging to goblins as it was to humans, and judging from the red glow around the young woman's fingertips, she seemed rather trigger happy at the moment.

Granted, Fleur Delacour had been growing much more moody over the past year, so her current state was certainly not unheard of throughout the halls of her place of employment. She had had made the excuse when she took the trainee curse breaker position that she was seeking employment in England to help improve her English. It was complete bullshit, of course, and everyone who knew her with any depth had already called her out on it. With how highly she was sought after for her skill with runes and charms, she could have chosen any Gringotts outpost for her base of operations.

There was also the fact that her English was already essentially perfect, her accent only affected for its disarming quality. She wondered why she bothered with it at all anymore. In the years after her maturity, she had used it to try and fit in with peers she thought she wanted as friends. Maybe if she could show she was not superb at everything, they would not be so jealous of her. It never had helped in that regard, but it did help get English speakers to underestimate her. It was a wonderful asset during the tournament two years ago, and it certainly made the few interactions she had with customers easier. But combined with her veela nature, it tended to make people think she was an easy mark.

People like Bill Weasley. Just the thought of that man set her fingers alight despite the tight control she was currently trying to maintain. She noticed an approaching goblin's eyes widen a fraction before taking a prudent and hasty turn down a corridor to the right. She clenched her fist tight as she forced more restraint onto her risen fury. Bill was not, on the whole, a bad person. In fact, were he not so insistent in his infatuation with her, she felt they might have been rather good friends. She had to grudgingly admire his determination if nothing else, but she just was not interested in the older man.

Perhaps the worst thing about the man's obsession with her, was the ridiculous notion he had that Fleur had moved to Britain to be near him. Of course, she made the mistake of laughing the first time he made mention of this idea. She honestly thought he was trying to make a joke, so her laughter had been filled with mirth rather than derision, leading to a strong spike in her allure. If the man, had not been completely ensnared before, he certainly was after that.

Fleur had always had an exceptionally strong connection to her Veela nature, to the point where the council had declared her the strongest veela born in several generations. Her grandmother and mother had both felt it was a blessing; Fleur knew it only as a curse.

Most veela had to train a lifetime in order gain even a fraction of the connection she had exhibited since she finished her maturity. Consequently, those veela had a great deal of control over their aspects. Fleur had next to none. Any spike in emotion was accompanied by a stark change in her allure.

Most people thought the veela allure had only one aspect: the ability to incite lust. And for most veela, this assumption proved correct. However, a veela with greater control over their nature could in fact manipulate their aura to generate different effects. Her grandmother, for example, could change her allure to change the credulity of whomever it affected. It made her extremely persuasive, and she could make someone believe with absolute certainty that oranges were naturally colored blue if she wanted to.

Fleur could do this as well, but it required little more than an errant wish on her part that someone believe her for it to be made so. It actually took much more concentration to turn the various effects of her allure off. She often had to concentrate just to keep her allure both to a minimum and confined to just the expected lustful aspect. She could deal with lustful men, and women on occasion. Also conscientious people expected to feel the arousal around her and often made an effort to work around it. They had no defense against being made to believe whatever she said or a sudden lowering of their self-esteem or a multitude of other effects.

The goblins and scattered humans who were currently giving her a wide berth, for instance, thought they did so out of their own sense of self-preservation. In actuality, her allure was now affecting a sense of fear and repulsion rather than attraction. It was always the hardest aspect for her to control, and with how quick she was to irritate these days, she often lost control of it.

The problem was not Bill or any of the other 'suitors' she had to deal with on a daily basis. It was, once again, a curse of her strong veela nature. Veela, by nature, were drawn to mate. They were beings of passion and lust, for certain, but their strong sexual nature was derived from an uncommonly low birth potential. One of the reasons she cherished Gabby so dearly was that it was nearly unheard of for veela to give birth more than once, if at all, and thus, sibling veela were exceptionally rare. The strong sex drive arose for the sole purpose of providing more chances for procreation.

Unfortunately, this proclivity led to the notion that veela, in general, were promiscuous. It was not a completely false accusation. The weaker a veela's connection to her power, the more likely she was to feel unsettled. A good portion of the veela power was directed towards finding an ideal mate to generate the best chance of offspring. The urge to mate was the most basic aspect of the veela nature, but the ability to sense proper candidates required greater affiliation with their power. So weaker veela would feel the need to physically test out as many men or women as possible.

Stronger veela also tested a great many potentials as well, but they were able to do so magically. It was abhorrent to them to engage in physical relations with those who were not viable. Since veela reproduction was initiated by magic rather than by eggs and sperm, compatible magic was a must, and most upper echelon veela never had more than 2 or 3 sexual partners throughout their lifetime.

Being the supposed strongest veela in generations, Fleur knew she would only ever have one. She had already found him, and it was the real reason she was in England. Seeing as he had not yet reached his magical maturity the last time she had been in his presence, it was just another testament to the scale of her ability that she could sense he would be her perfect mate. He had been too young magically for her to engage fully during the tournament, but she had certainly not shied away from trying to stake her claim. Harry had been an amazing kisser.

Thoughts of Harry served to calm her almost instantly – much to the relief of most of the occupants of Gringotts. The memory of his kisses, his scent, the feel of his rough, broom-calloused thumbs brushing across her rock-hard nipples was how she normally kept her allure in lust-mode throughout the work day. Unfortunately, the fact that she had not been able to see him in nearly a full year at this point despite being so much closer served to frazzle her nerves to the point she was quick to anger, especially by people who thought they could take her away from Harry.

Her conflicting thoughts brought her to a halt, her longing for Harry compounding with her frustration with her co-worker leading to a sense of despair. Occasionally her loneliness would catch up with her like this. Regular letter exchanges with Harry had bolstered her self-confidence; knowing that he still held affection for her despite their distance was a constant boon to her soul. But sometimes she just felt overwhelmed.

Her chin dropped to her chest as her head fell forward allowing a curtain of lush silver hair to hide the tears that were currently forming in her eyes. With a shuddering sigh, she slumped slightly against the wall to her left. Her allure flared out an aura of depression causing most of the Gringotts employees, human and goblin alike, to lose all interest in whatever work they might be doing, as if there was just no point to it.

The moment of despondency was quite brief, thankfully. Only seconds after Fleur's emotions overtook her, a wave of magic and lust tore through the bank. Technically there were two such ripples in the magical continuum, but only Fleur felt the first one. It reached her almost the exact instant her shoulder had touched the wall in her slump. She was extremely thankful for the support.

It was Harry. She would know that magic anywhere, but it felt like it was doubled for some reason. Not in a way that suggested Harry's power had doubled but rather that it had been duplicated somehow, and both copies were reaching out to her with such overwhelming desire that her mind blanked with pleasure and returned desire. It was so pure and strong and fulfilling that she knew for certain had they been in physical contact at the time, she would be pregnant.

The fact that her knickers were ruined with her instant orgasm was certainly no surprise. All she wanted was to extend the pleasure she was feeling, not even caring she was in the middle of the hallway in her place of employment. Her hands instantly darted inside her robes, one to her breast the other inside her soaked undergarments. A double pinch of nipple and clit was all it took for another explosive orgasm to spill from her sex, a throaty moan echoing down the hallway with a concussive wave of lust-filled allure following close behind.

As she came down from the high, her breathing still strong and pulse still racing, she became more aware of her surroundings. Looking down the corridor, she noticed every office door standing open, their occupants standing at the doorways all with gazes trained on her lithe form. Judging by the addled and glassy-eyed looks she was receiving from all and sundry, no matter of gender or race, she realized she must be pumping out an inordinate amount of pure lust allure.

With a deep breath she went through her concentration exercises in order to reign it in. Opening her eyes again, something was definitely wrong. Everyone was still staring at her with the same expressions only now they were beginning to stumble toward her, like sex zombies or something. Quickly, she went through her processes to curtail her allure output again, but if anything it only seemed to make the problem worse.

With a curse, she brandished her wand, just that action alone breaking several treaties despite her employment contract. Treaties be damned, she would not be gang raped. Considering the state of the approaching mob, Fleur doubted they even cared. As stunners began flying, she only had one thought. _I need to get to Harry_.

* * *

At the Hogwarts quidditch pitch, a very confused and heavily breathing Katie Bell found herself hovering inches above the ground. Moments before, she had been running solo shooting drills preparing for tryouts for the summer developmental league that were occurring in a couple of weeks.

She had always gotten a small bit of stimulation from the low level turbulence her broom experienced during flight. It was one of the reasons she had yet to upgrade to a new model. But what she had just experienced was unprecedented, as evidenced by the fact she had actually fallen off in her orgasmic high. Hence the confusion as to why she was still floating and not planted several inches into the turf. She had always had an affinity for air magicks, but never to the extent to which she felt the wind supporting her body at the moment. The lack of a wand in her hand only heightened the perplexity of the situation.

* * *

In the Hogwarts owlry, a dark haired beauty knelt in the midst of what appeared to be a crystalline wonderland. The temperature in the owlry had dipped dramatically moments ago in conjunction with a very loud scream of pleasure. A sheen of ice had quickly covered every inanimate surface throughout the entire room. Thankfully the owls had been spared the rather gruesome fate of being flash frozen. They all instead looked on in apparent curiosity, breath coming out in quick puffs of condensation, at the young woman who on her frequent visits had always been so collected and quiet.

Daphne Greengrass' cool blue eyes opened slowly, the rictus of pleasure still etched on her face. Try though she might, she could not reclaim her stony mask of stoicism. Not after something as amazing as what had just happened. Being raised the model pureblood heiress, she had never experienced a feeling of such pure pleasure. Pleasure was not important, only duty.

Well, fuck duty, she wanted more of whatever _that_ was, and she would put all of her considerable talents into finding out just where that magic had come from.

* * *

Luna Lovegood was no stranger to sex, or at least not to orgasms. The only time she could focus through the fog of foresight her mind was usually plagued with was for about a half-hour after cumming. It was the only way she had been able to complete any of her education. All of her homework and exams were completed while she wore a magical stimulator. The visions were always there, even post-orgasm, but for some reason, the sexual high cut through them so they were less distracting.

Rather than being elated by the random orgasm she had just experienced, Luna felt extremely distressed. She was certainly experiencing the usual clarity of thought she always did, but this was different. The visions were gone. Not pushed to the side or ignored, but gone. She had always thought of the prophetic foresight her Mother's failed experiment had bestowed on her as punishment for getting her killed. But she had learned to live with it, and now that it was gone, it was as though the last connection to her Mother had departed with it. Tears welled up in the blonde's silvery eyes as her mind searched frantically for just one vision, just one thread of possibility. But there was nothing.

* * *

Strange events were occurring throughout the magical population of Europe and Northern Africa. Witches and some wizards, seemingly at random, were overcome with sexual arousal for a brief moment followed by the experience of odd control issues with their magic. Some would see foundations of their magic crumble, others lost control, and yet others gained new heights to specific elements of their magic.

Those who witnessed the effects could explain the phenomenon no better than those who experienced them. The one effect that was universal to all those affected was a new found sense of determination. Something fundamental had shifted in their world, and they all had a new purpose in life. Just what that purpose was escaped many of them, but they would find it, or die trying.

* * *

 **AN: *Again, please do not make the same assumptions some of my characters might have. I think you know what I mean assuming you didn't just close the browser window before finishing the chapter. Poppy has formed a reasonable conclusion based on her experience. She's never heard of a Sekirei, nor has Dumbledore, so they have no basis to believe anything else. I'm trying to be true to my characters as best I can.**

 **About veela reproduction: I based it off the Asari from the Mass Effect universe, hence the disclaimer at the top.**


	6. Two for the Show

**AN:** Um...Hi? Ugh, I'm so sorry it's been so long. I bet some of you thought I'd abandoned this one, right? Nope! Life is just a bitch sometimes. Anywho, not a super long chapter, which will annoy some of you, but I'm trying to kickstart my muse here people. I also think it could be better, but I'm always critical of myself. I sincerely hope the next chapter does not take as long to write and post. For those of you still here, thanks for waiting and I hope you enjoy this one.

 **Legend for this chapter:**

 **"** _I am speaking Japanese_ **"**

 **'** I am thinking so linguistics doesn't really matter **'**

 **DISCLAIMER: See First Chapter.**

* * *

 _ **Chapter 6: Two for the Show**_

"Well, that was a thing." Uzume had no idea how she was able to understand Harry's words, but they caused her beaming smile to morph into a playful smirk. If he thought that was good, just wait until she got him alone. She had no intention of letting him stay out of her knickers for any appreciable length of time. She had felt so sorry for all of Minato's Sekirei; the boy was the most prudish pervert she had ever seen. True, Musubi and Ku had no idea there might be more to life than a kiss, but poor Matsu was so hard up it was scary.

Despite the winging, her desire for him had not diminished in the slightest. She would need some more of that water soon judging by how much she was still gushing from her nether regions. Dehydration would start to set in soon without either some relief or replenishment. A brief flicker of movement out of the corner of her eye caused her to sigh in frustration. Replenishment it would have to be; relief would have to wait, apparently.

"Harry, please step away from her." Unlike Harry's speech, she still could not understand the old man when he spoke English. It was rather strange, but not her most immediate concern. It was more than clear that Harry had not liked whatever his headmaster had said. The scowl that marred his face was almost physically painful to her. Her Ashikabi needed to be smiling, especially so soon after winging her.

" _What did you say to him, Dumbledore?_ " Uzume demanded, turning a scowl of her own at the man. She noted that the nurse had an alarmed look on her face and was babbling something in obvious protest. Harry seemed to understand the exchange seeing as he turned a curious gaze toward the woman. Uzume began to lose her temper. She really needed a way to understand what was going on. " _Harry, can you understand me?_ "

"Yes," he replied after turning a curious gaze back in her direction. "Should I not be able to?" She smiled in relief as there was at least someone firmly on her side with whom she could communicate.

" _What are they arguing about?"_ Normally, Uzume would not have ignored his question, but she needed answers of her own at the moment. She was still half-bound to the bed frame after all. Harry seemed to appreciate her desperation and pressed his own curiosity down. He turned his head slightly back towards the arguing adults.

"The Headmaster really seems to want the two of us separated. Madam Pomfrey is yelling something about that being dangerous. Something about a soul bond or something." He paused with a ponderous frown, sliding his startlingly green eyes back to Uzume. "Is that what just happened?"

" _I...don't know._ " And that was the honest truth. " _I don't think so, though. But, then, I have no idea what a 'soul bond' is either."_ Certainly a Sekirei bond had formed, but was it really the same type of bond without a Sekirei core? There seemed to be more to it. The wings were there, definitely, but the power melding and level of reaction were both unprecedented. Had the core also limited the strength of the bond? Perhaps that would make sense if their purpose really had been to protect the Sekirei. With the core-governed Sekirei bond, death of the Ashikabi only led to deactivation. With the depth of connection she now felt with Harry, she had a suspicion that were he to die, it would spell her end as well. It was just more incentive to protect him as best she could.

"Never heard of it either," he responded. "Though, that's not too surprising. No one ever tells me anything. Everyone just expects me to know everything already." Harry's final words were accompanied by a glare towards Dumbledore, who by this point seemed fully cowed by the stern nurse – Madam Pomfrey, Harry had called her. The woman turned to Harry and said something in probably the most conciliatory tone she could muster. Whatever it was, it worked as Harry seemed to deflate. She kept speaking in a teaching manner for a minute or so, at the end of which, Harry turned a speculative glance in her direction again.

"Are you sure we didn't form a soul bond?" he asked. Uzume opened her mouth to speak out in declination but noticed that Dumbledore was once again paying rapt attention. She still had no idea what to make of the old man, and she really had no intention of giving away anything about Sekirei. There were too many ways to turn that information against her and now, Harry. She knew the old man suspected her of keeping secrets already, well he would just have to learn to take his own medicine.

" _Harry, I don't even know what a soul bond is. How could I be sure one way or another?_ " He looked confused as he took in her response.

"But," he stuttered a bit as he pointed back between Uzume and the nurse, "Madam Pomfrey just explained it. How…"

" _I can't understand English, Harry._ "

"What do you mean? You're speaking English...right?" A light of understanding was dawning in his eyes. It was accompanied by a desperation in his voice that spoke of the recollection of something unpleasant.

" _Sorry, Babe, Japanese here._ " His shoulders slumped, and his head dipped at her response. He muttered something she could not quite make out about parcels, though it escaped her what packages had to do with anything. He seemed to shake off whatever funk had set in quickly enough and raised his face showing a rueful smile.

"Well, at least Japanese is human. I always did want to learn another language."

" _Not sure you really have. I think you just understand me through our bond._ " This was a facet of Harry she was not prepared for. He seemed to jump to conclusions rather quickly. Currently it was not a huge problem, but it spoke of a lack of experience and a high level of credulity that could prove dangerous, especially in wartime. Uzume would need to find a way to build up a healthy amount of skepticism in her Ashikabi. She had certainly seen enough in the decade or so she had been out in the world to realize superficiality was rampant.

"Really? Huh…" Harry blinked owlishly for a moment before his eyes narrowed. "Wait, you said 'bond.' I thought you didn't think we had formed a bond?" Well, that was a little better.

" _Oh, we definitely bonded, hun._ " Uzume responded with a saucy wink." _But I have at least a better than average notion as to the type of bond we have, and it ain't of the 'soul' variety. At least I don't think so._ "

"Then, what –" She cut off his question with a gentle but firm squeeze of the hand she was still holding. The headmaster and nurse were no longer arguing and had turned their attention back to the new couple. Uzume had no intention of disabusing Dumbledore or the nurse of their false conclusions regarding the Sekirei bond. That would lead to having to tell them about Sekirei, and she still had no reason to trust the old man with that information yet. That is assuming he was telling the truth about not rummaging through her memories while extracting Kingsley's. Regardless, she would not willingly inform the man of her origins until she had some confidence that he was trustworthy.

Thankfully, Harry seemed to get the message, though the confused expression told Uzume he did not understand her motive. Dumbledore approached the couple with a healthy amount of caution and an air of uncertainty. It did not suit the aged wizard, and Uzume supposed he was likely unaccustomed to dealing with unknown circumstances. Despite his apparent unease, the man's voice was as even and measured as it had been all morning. It was just annoying that he chose to speak in English again.

"He wants to know if he can cast a translation spell on you," Harry thankfully interpreted once Dumbledore finished speaking. There was a bit of tension in his voice, though it was not directed at her. She assumed the old man had said something else that annoyed Harry– likely about her, seeing as he chose not to convey whatever it was. All Uzume knew was that Dumbledore had spoken for considerably longer than required simply to request casting a spell on her. Regardless, she looked toward the man and nodded perfunctorily in assent.

"Now, we should all be able to understand one another," the headmaster said after a sending a light blue spell from his ornately carved wand at her. She noticed that the Veil had tried to emerge and block the spell, as if it had a mind of its own. Thankfully, it only took a brief exertion of power to keep it at bay. She did will it to once again wrap around her in her normal battle attire, though. It did not appear she would get to be alone with Harry anytime soon, and the blanket currently covering her was starting to itch and chafe at her sensitive bits.

"Well, that's handy," Uzume responded. It was an odd experience being under the translation spell – almost like hearing in stereo but with one speaker in Japanese and the other in English.

"Indeed," the old man responded. "Now, I think there are some things we need to discuss before any other...momentous events transpire."

"Sir," Harry jumped in a bit quickly. A glance at his face told Uzume that Harry was not quite as naive as she may have suspected. His interjection seemed like a well rehearsed tactic to keep Dumbledore from controlling the flow of a conversation, as if he had been burned by letting the old wizard speak at length before. "I have a question. What is this 'soul-bond' you and Poppy were talking about?"

"Ah…" The question seemed to bring Dumbledore up short. Uzume could tell it was not out of any desire to keep information hidden; rather, he seemed to be searching for where to begin. She had to admit, she was more than a bit curious herself as to what the man had to say on the topic. It seemed these wizards had at least a passing idea of the connection shared between a Sekirei and her or his Ashikabi, even if they did not fully understand it. She was still unsure of what the spirit of Sirius had meant when he spoke of other Sekirei possibly being free of the core-restrictions. She was wondering now if there had been something to that off-hand comment.

"It is a theory," he began before pausing with an uncertain look on his wrinkled visage. "Well it _was_ a theory, at any rate. One posed by the late Lady Flamel some 400 years ago. Very few people even know the concept exists outside the healing field, and even then only in passing. I will admit to having several academic...conversations with Perenelle on the subject during my time working with Nicholas. She knew I had an interest in soul magic from some of my explorations in my early youth, and often wanted my opinion on her theories."

Uzume caught Harry's eyes as Dumbledore continued to ramble. There was a long suffering look on her Ashikabi's face indicating this exposition was par for the course. Here was a man who loved the sound of his own voice with a level of sexual depravity unparalleled. Eventually, he did come to a point.

"Her theory involved the melding of two souls in such a way that they became indistinguishable from each other. Not only their souls, but their magic as well. Arithmantically, her theory was sound as far as the formation of the bond and the melding was concerned. I argued with her on the improbability of the conditions required for the initiation ever occurring and what I had assumed to be the impossibility of anyone actually surviving the process." He trailed off with a curious expression, glancing towards the nurse.

"What do you mean by the conditions for initiation?" At the risk of another pontification, Uzume needed to know more. So far the theory seemed pretty far off from what a Sekirei bond actually was. The way he described it so far suggested that the bonded would essentially be the same person. Furthermore, they would have the same powers. That certainly had never happened with the core-restricted wingings she was used to. She turned a speculative look at Harry. 'I wonder _…_

"According the calculations, the two souls would essentially have to be the same prior to bonding already. I tried several times to break the arithmancy. I was fond of the idea of soulmates. Love has always held a strong fascination for me, you see. I was hoping the calculations could be shifted from congruence to compliment. In other words, if rather than two people needing to have the same soul already, it could occur with souls that were perfect compliments. Complimentary souls, while still extremely rare, are still possible. But the math never worked," he finished with a sigh.

Uzume now knew the theory Dumbledore was working from was fundamentally different than the Sekirei bond. In fact, the way he tried to manipulate the soul bond theory would have him much closer to what she knew about the connection with an Ashikabi. The problem, as far as she could tell, was he was working only with human physiology and meta-physiology. She had a suspicion that were he to apply Sekirei to this 'arithmancy' he spoke of, he would derive a very different outcome.

She also understood why surviving the bonding would be considered impossible the way the wizards' theory worked. The bonded would essentially be losing their souls and then trying to share a single one. Even to someone completely foreign to the world of magic like Uzume, that sounded like bad news. Apparently, Harry felt the same from the skeptical look on his face. But as he was about to speak, there was commotion from the office on the far side of the room.

"Madam Pomfrey!" a female voice shouted after a short flash of green. Before the nurse could turn to respond to whatever was occurring in her office, the door slammed open revealing a young woman of average height with auburn curls and stunning grey eyes, not to mention a body that even had Uzume looking on with appreciation. Of course, her beauty was overshadowed by the air of desperation and anger she was currently displaying.

"Miss Tonks! What is the meaning of this?" The healer exclaimed, rounding on the young woman who had just barged into the infirmary from her office. Uzume was more curious as to how she managed to arrive from there rather than through the main doors she could see on the other side of the room. Had she been there this whole time?

"Tonks?" Harry questioned softly to the point Uzume was sure she was the only one who had heard him. So he obviously knew who this woman was, but he seemed shocked to see her. On a second assessment of his expression, he actually seemed to not recognize her despite knowing who she was. Needless to say, Uzume found this reaction rather strange. She was beginning to realize she was going to need to suspend her disbelief if she was going to make her way in this new society she had barged into.

"Madam Pomfrey! There's something wrong! I can't morph." The desperation was clear in her voice.

"Miss Tonks? What do you mean?" This time it was Dumbledore who responded. A very worried tone entering his voice. Apparently, this day was bound and determined to frustrated the headmaster. Even only having just met him, Uzume could understand his need to be in control and have all information at his fingertips. Between their earlier discussions, her winging, and now whatever this incident was about, the old man was being assaulted on all sides by surprises.

"I woke up in this form like I always do," Tonks began after taking a few calming breaths. Uzume, who was watching her closely, noticed something the others missed. None of them would have known to look for it or even have recognized it for what it was even if they did see it. "I was about to morph into my common form when...something...hit me. It was, well, if I'm honest, bloody fantastic," she said with the hint of a goofy grin crossing her features, causing the nurse to mumble something under her breath.

"Miss Tonks?"

"Uh, r-right," she stammered with a blush that did not fade as she continued. Uzume sighed slightly both in exasperation and wonder. 'How is this even fucking possible?' "Well, um, after... _it_ I tried to change, but nothing happened. It's not just morphing either, professor. I had to try four times just to floo here. I can barely cast a _lumos_!" The desperation was back in her bearing. Uzume did not understand half of the words this Tonks had just said, but one thing was clear. There was something wrong with her powers. Uzume had a pretty good idea what it was too.

The nurse sprang into activity, her wand out and rapidly moving in strange patterns. Various lights and colors passed between the tip of the wand and the woman's form. With each spell, Uzume could see the healer's expression become darker and more frustrated.

"Ugh, it's no use," she eventually said in anger. "I can't make heads nor tails of these readings."

"What do you mean, no use?" Tonks replied, obviously unsettled by Pomfrey's assessment.

"There's technically nothing wrong with your magic," she replied. "It's all still there, if rather agitated at the moment. What makes no sense is that there appears to be a block, but if the scans are correct, you placed it on yourself. Since you are clearly distressed by this, I doubt that is actually the case. Hence my frustration."

"Um...I think-" was all Uzume got out before being cut off rather aggressively.

"What the hell is that bitch doing here?" Tonks snarled. Apparently, in her distress, she had yet to notice the other occupants of the infirmary, at least consciously. Uzume's interjection drew the woman's attention to her, and she found herself glad Tonks' magic was currently on the fritz. If the look of pure loathing was any indication, Uzume's head would be no more than a stain on the wall if Tonks had her powers available. Well, that was certainly going to make things awkward.

* * *

Despite having an apparent block on her magic that for some inexplicable reason she had placed on herself, she was an auror trained in all forms of combat. She did not need her magic to remove that whore's head from her shoulders. The moment Tonks' attention was brought to the woman who had killed her friend lying cozy in the infirmary bed, she saw red. Not only was she here rather than in the deepest, darkest dungeon known to man, she was sitting there holding hands with Harry Potter.

Harry Potter, who looked fucking delicious. For a moment, she almost forgot her rage as she drank in the young man's presence. It was intoxicating. Her knickers, still damp from earlier, became freshly drenched just looking at his face. Her wrath hit full force again as she gave him a long once over, once again seeing his hand grasping the murdering hussy's lovingly.

She sprang forward quicker than a cat, her hair streaming behind her like flames, pure rage etching her features. She saw the black veils she had noticed last night leap up from behind the bitch, but someone was faster than both of them.

Before she had taken three steps, Tonks rammed into what felt like a steel wall. She felt strong hands grasp her by the shoulders, giving her a gentle but firm shake. She looked up to see who or what was keeping her from her revenge only to meet a pair deep green seas. Seas filled with sadness and understanding but also a firm resolve. She saw his mouth moving and knew he was trying to say something to her, but all Tonks understood none of it.

She was lost. Her rage gone: replaced by heat and wonder. She felt her entire body light up in a blush of epic proportions. She stared at those lips that were still moving trying to tell her something. All she could think was there were better things those lips could be doing... _needed_ to be doing.

Despite her suddenly weak knees, she lunged forward trying to silence those perfect lips with her own. The desperation grew as he pushed her away. Not enough to let her go, but such that she could not reach what she needed.

"Harry...please." She was not above begging.

"Tonks-"

"Do it, Harry."

"But, Uzume…"

"Later, she needs you. Now."

There was something weird about that second voice, but Tonks had no time to contemplate it as the resistance to her advances melted away. She surged forward, lips meeting his as orgasmic bliss surged through her soul. As her eyes rolled back in her head, she briefly caught a glimpse of a rapidly shifting rainbow of light surrounding her. She did not think it possible to eclipse the feeling she had experienced earlier that morning, but that threshold had just been shattered. As the torrent of pleasure subsided, she pulled away and found Harry's eyes once again.

"By the variance of the soul, I shall morph my Ashikabi's perils to nothingness."


End file.
